Why L isn't Good Boyfriend Material
by Beryl Bloodstone
Summary: Because we should know better. Join the slightly delusional character known as O in this silly "investigation" as she assumes the position as L's girlfriend because someone needs to identify with her pain. Slightly crack.
1. Aliases

**Summary: Because we should know better. Join the slightly delusional character known as O in this silly "investigation" as she assumes the position as L's girlfriend and identify with her pain. Slightly crack.**

**The Audience Needs to Know:**

**~Hi. First Death Note fanfiction. If you have any suggestions throughout this silly story, let me know through a PM. Thanks.**

**~Have an **_**awesome **_**time with this. It IS humor, so don't prepare to chop my head off for some ridiculousness.**

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**Why L Isn't Good Boyfriend Material**

**By: Beryl Bloodstone**

**Reason One**

**"Too Many Aliases"**

In a hotel room located in a busy Japanese city, a tense-looking young woman stared at the side of a barefoot, crouching man's head. He was perched atop a striped chair, pointedly ignoring her as his pale fingers darted across the keys of his laptop. When he realized that the intensity of the female's stare was not letting up, he stopped his typing and addressed her with tired black eyes.

"Yes, O?" the messy-haired man said, his voice flat and emotionless.

The young female known as O relaxed now that she had caught the man's attention. She uncrossed her arms and blew a black strand of hair out of the lenses of her smudged glasses.

"L," she started, her tone incredibly patronizing considering who she was talking to, "why the hell are you-"

"It is Ryuzaki here," he softly reminded her, watching O as her arms crossed over her chest again. "Continue."

"See!? _That's _my problem!" the bespectacled girl fumed.

L and O were boyfriend and girlfriend, with glaring differences. L was a sugar-loving, super-genius detective, who made his living solving many difficult cases, but only if they personally interested him. O was simply a nineteen-year-old who was good at debating. Now, one might possibly wonder, what did this O girl have that attracted L? Well, there was nothing he actually _adored _about her except the fact that she was an extreme critic. She was a troll, almost constantly harping on the way he sat, ate, and wore the same clothes almost every day they spent together.

No one really complained that much about him; they mostly called him out for his eccentricities then let it go after realizing that his habits weren't going away. But hearing O's constant bitching about every single thing he did awakened some kind of strange, masochistic pleasure in him.

What a weird bastard he is.

"I'm afraid I don't follow you, O," L replied casually, in a teasing tone that O could not possibly bother to hear.

"How is this relationship thing going to work if we can't call each other by name?" she asked furiously. "My name doesn't even _start _with an O!"

"The last time I checked, Original Character does."

"What?"

"Nothing important. Continue your argument."

O stuck out her bottom lip, scrutinizing L with dark-brown eyes. She realized that she was being highly unreasonable considering the fact that there were plenty people in the world that wanted the genius detective dead, and that the many aliases he used to avoid the detection of those people were not just for kicks. It was to protect himself. Possibly her, too.

But, in the highly unlikely situation they were to get married, what the hell was she going to call him in the moment of consummating their marriage? LL Cool J?

"Ryuzaki, honey?" O began sweetly, walking behind the chair he was seated in and wrapping her arms around the man's shoulders.

"And my deduction rate just went down by ten percent," he commented quietly, prior to sighing and closing his laptop. "Yes, O?"

"Am I getting paid for this?"

"For what, exactly? You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"I think trying to a love a guy that's in love with pastries deserves compensation," O replied, releasing L, and thus, returning his deduction rate back to its desired state.

"I'll give you a strawberry, if that's what you want," he bargained, reaching for a bowl of the tiny, red fruit to offer to the sighing girl.

"This, L, is why you aren't good boyfriend material…"


	2. Surveillance

**Audience Should Know:**

**~Thanks for the follows and faves! If you have any ideas as to why L isn't good bf material, let me know in a PM. **

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**Reason Two**

"**Surveillance Everywhere"**

O was having a good day. She finally got out of that stuffy hotel room, and enjoyed the crisp air of the city. She even treated herself to some _real _food that threatened her weight, instead of her level of sugar. Even though it was cute for a grown man like L to have the appetites of a child that was borderline diabetic, O could not begin to eat the things he did. Sure, he had his occasional serving of fruit, but covering them in icing, chocolate, or some other sweet topping was not helping his health.

_It's a miracle that his teeth aren't as rotten as his social skills…_O thought flippantly.

In order to encourage him to cut back on his sugar for at least a week, O promised L that she, too, would cut down on her own addiction:

Nutella.

Even _contemplating _about the perfect blend of chocolate and hazelnut was enough to make her body believe that it needed the good stuff to function properly. A pang of guilt rushed through O like ice water once she recalled that she had jars of Nutella stashed everywhere. Under her bed, buried in the mattress, hidden compartments in her dresser, in a purse she never carried unless she was going somewhere. Even in the bathroom.

L was probably trying his hardest not to overload his tea with four or five sugar cubes, or cut into Watari's expertly homemade cakes. He was probably suffering, the poor thing, while O was riding the elevator, indulgently eating a spoonful of Nutella as she waited for the metal doors to open to her destination. She stuffed the jar in her purse, pulling out a pack of L's favorite candies to reward him for his moderation.

O was hoping to find L in the hotel room, working diligently as usual and substituting his usual piece of carrot cake for an actual carrot.

Of course, her hopes were dashed as soon as she opened the door.

L was in his trademark stance, happily enjoying a brownie that was a victim of drowning in a lot of fudge. He even greeted O casually as she dropped the pack of congratulatory candies on the floor in outrage, her mouth forming a short relationship with the floor before she found her tongue to speak again.

"Hello, O," the detective welcomed warmly, his tired eyes making a beeline for the bag of candies near O's feet. "Were those for me? How nice of you."

"You!" O accused, jabbing an accusatory finger at the messy-haired man. "You…cheated!"

"But sweetheart," L flatly taunted, "I have a very credible reason to."

He noticed, for a split second's time, that O's right eye twitched. He climbed out of his chair, walking over to the innocent bag of confectionary sitting by his furious girlfriend's feet. He tore it open, pulled out a fun-sized, red candy, and held it in the air. He seemed to be observing it before he popped it into O's unsuspecting mouth. The brown-eyed girl thumped at her chest, almost choking on the candy.

"L, you bastard! You just tried to kill me…with candy!" she blamed hotly once she recovered.

L rolled his eyes. "Spare me the dramatics. Besides, you went back on your word first."

O bristled, a throaty growl ripping through her lips. "How!? I don't see your proof!"

That was when she recollected that L was a super-genius detective, not just a awkward, sugar-junkie. She watched with wide eyes as he went back to his beloved laptop and turned the screen towards her as an answer to her question. On the laptop were multiple screens of video footage, displaying O and her activities during the week. The first screen labeled "Monday" showed her in bed, reading something on her tablet as she dipped a spoon in her Nutella jar. The most recent one was of her in the elevator.

L chuckled lightly. "My personal favorite is with you in the bathroom-"

"Shut up, L! This is why you're not good boyfriend material!"


	3. Percentages

**Audience Needs to Know:**

**~Thanks for the follows and adding to your favorites! **

**~Thanks for the review, WhiteLadyDragon. **

**~Pardon the wackiness O is exhibiting towards the end! Kinda went a bit raunchy there.**

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**Reason Three**

"**Percentages, Percentages, Percentages"**

"L, I can _not _believe you!" O snapped, close to pulling every strand of hair out of her scalp in one fierce yank. L was busy sipping at his tea, which O affectionately dubbed "liquid diabetes." The griping nineteen-year-old wanted to go out on a date with the genius detective so they can have a little bit of time together. The Kira case was put on a one-day hiatus and she'd rather spend it with him, over a nice, fattening dinner. Not watching him work almost nonstop. Not hearing him make up percentages-to O, those probabilities he often spat out sounded like a whole lot of bullshit to her. And definitely not sitting here arguing with her.

"How can you not believe me, O?" asked L, voice flat as always. He gingerly sat the liquid diabetes down on the table in front of him, black eyes staring ahead at the fuming, ebony-haired girl in the chair across from him. She was wearing a yellow dress, a purple sash going around her midriff. This new development increased her beauty by ten-point-six-eight percent, and his testosterone level by an even twenty. "I always tell the truth."

O sighed through her nose. "No, I mean-how come we can't go out somewhere for a date?"

"According to the dictionary, a date is a romantic engagement with somebody. We don't necessarily need to go out in order to enjoy our free time together and be romantic."

O ran her tongue over her front teeth, clenching the armrest of her chair. L was really getting on her nerves. He actually just turned to the dictionary for a explanation that wasn't even really that decent. What the fuck? The bespectacled girl was shaking like a stripper on double-duty before she decided to calm herself. L had the patience of a saint; she would just have to match him.

"L-"

"Ryuzaki," he corrected, before sipping his concentrated sugar tea.

"Whatever, Ryuzaki. Just because we're in a hotel doesn't mean we can be romantic," O argued.

"What do you mean, O? There is at least an eighty-nine-point-six chance of us sharing a kiss before this night ends."

"WHAT!?" she screamed, slamming her palms down on her thighs. She hissed at the stinging she was feeling in them, then cleared her throat. "How can you just know-"

"Do you need further explanation?" the detective said, sounding a bit more cocky than usual. "Because, if things progress as they should, that percentage might increase by a considerable amount."

O couldn't believe this. She knew L was confident, but…damn. Hearing L being so daring was rare, and even though she knew she should be flattered, it did nothing but piss her off even more. Who was he to make deductions on their love life? With that confidence boost, his retarded social skills would increase by ninety-nine-point-two percent. Which would leave him being progressively more friendly, and his first friend would be Matsuda because he's one-hundred-ten percent more gullible and cute than anyone else taking an active part in the Kira investigation gang. As the friendship moves on, L would feel more open about what he discusses with Matsuda. Before O knows it, he'll start telling him that there's a fifty-three-point-seven-two percentage of him achieving sexual intercourse with O if he keeps spouting fancy numbers and figures because that's _bound_ to give most girls soiled pantaloons.

Great. Now _she's _doing it.

Returning from her trip to Vivid Imaginationland, O eyed L for a full five minutes before saying, "All right."

If L had eyebrows, one would be raised. "I'm sorry; I do not follow."

"I mean, we can have the date here. Just promise me one thing."

"What is it, O?"

"Let me put this in a way that _you'll_ understand: there is an absolute zero-point-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero…zero percent chance that your penis is getting into my vagina by the end of this night."

A pregnant pause, then, "O?"

"Yes, Ryuzaki, darling?"

"Your deduction was completely uncalled for…"

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry."

"Therefore, I'd have to decrease my earlier deduction by a hefty fifty percent."

"WHAT!?"

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**Just one humble request from the authoress: tell me what you think. Don't want anyone else missing out on the hilarity!**


	4. Testing

**Audience Needs to Know:**

**~Sorry for the wait.**

**~I hope you enjoy.**

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**Reason Four**

"**Testing, Testing…On Your Nerves"**

One would think that O was proud of her boyfriend.

He was able to solve cases that would take months, possibly even years to finally figure out, and solve them in a matter of a week or two. He was doling out justice left and right, arresting people for their wrongdoings to protect the innocent. He was a prodigy. His detective work was unheard of for a person his age, and anyone who was able to have the privilege of working with him-should he allow it-was in awe of his genius. He was the world's three greatest detectives, and yet, he probably couldn't figure out how to console his girlfriend when she experiencing the hardest time of her life:

The disappearance of her pet goldfish, Miyagi-san.

Miyagi-san was a good goldfish, always kept O company. Well, he was kept prisoner in a glass bowl and had no appendages _to _leave her company, but that's beside the point. The point is, O really loved him for being there when she complained about L, the possibility of Kira killing off criminals because they had more chances at getting doted on by big, burly men than he did, and how Matsuda was the absolute best at being the most underappreciated guy a girl could meet. Seriously, he was like the kid in class who would remind his teacher that he didn't give any homework…on a Friday, for Pete's sake.

Anyway, O had locked herself in her room, which was on the twenty-third floor of the hotel suite. Miyagi-san's empty glass bowl shone tauntingly at her, as if to say, "Hey. Guess who's not here anymore to blow cute, little bubbles? Miyagi-san, you dumb bucket!" She ignored the harmful ramblings of the goldfish's former home, and sighed. She knew she didn't have to be as intelligent as L to know that he must've died already after being out of her sight for so long. Either someone had either accidentally dumped the fish out of his residence and-having been panicked-threw him back in with barely enough water to sustain his life or somebody was jealous that he had a castle for a house and they didn't, thus throwing him down the toilet to rot in the sewers.

Yeah, that was definitely it.

What had bothered O the most was that L didn't come up to say a single word to her. He was notorious for his silence, however, it would be nice if he could question where she's been. If a boyfriend hadn't seen his girlfriend for the past five hours, he would've checked on her by now, right? Nope. Not L Lawliet. He had some sort of "If you don't ask, I won't tell" kind of deal that needed some working on, if you asked O-

An almost non-existent knock shattered her concentration. "Are you decent, O?"

Before she could even open her mouth to form words, the door opened. It was L, at last, come to shower her with the gifts of his blank, panda-eyed stare and crooked posture. Ah, sweet nectar for the eyes.

"Hey, Ryuzaki," O greeted, wiping the tears from her eyes before she put on her glasses. "It took you long enough."

L took a few steps forward, then glanced inquisitively at his girlfriend's face. "You've been crying, haven't you?"

"That's why you're the world's three greatest detectives."

L paused, then took a couple steps back to sit in his trademark monkey-crouch on O's swivel chair. Throwing his thumb nail under the merciless sugar-coated morsels that are his teeth, he continued to look at O critically.

"You sound irritated. Could it be that you're experiencing Premenstrual Syndrome?" he asked innocently, like he just asked for the weather forecast. O let out a strangled gasp, then threw a pillow at the detective's head. He didn't move, perfectly still in that slouch of his. "Ah, then I'm correct."

"The hell you are! Besides, that's not 'til-"

"The next two weeks, yes; that makes more sense."

O started to resemble Miyagi-san, with her gaping mouth. "H-How?"

"You mark your calendar, so it wasn't that hard of deduction."

O just sighed. She might as well stop being surprised from now on. She found it kind of ironic that he might've known everything about her, from her measurements to her favorite underwear and she didn't know jack squat about him. Shaking her head to get rid of such thoughts, she focused on the task at hand.

"Anyway, I'm 'irritated' because Miyagi-san isn't here anymore," she informed the pale-skinned man, who was attempting to stay still as he could on a swivel chair. She waited for the typical "I'm sorry for your loss" spiel or some response from L, but it didn't come. O physically felt her brain shudder. Was this what an aneurysm was like?

"L, you can't be serious right now," she deadpanned, rubbing at the sides of her cranium. Prior to him speaking, she lifted up a finger. "And don't answer in the form of a question. Lord knows that you do that enough."

"I fail to understand what needs to be said about a goldfish," he explained, no form of remorse in his voice.

"That 'goldfish' was my friend, Ryuzaki! That's not exactly what you say to someone who's lost a friend."

"Then what do you wish me to say? That he was delicious? Because, in my opinion, he was the worst candy fish I've ever tasted."

When a normal person gave herself over to her inner insanity, it tends to be the most unforgettable event ever in her life. When O let fell into the grip of insanity, a strange calm settled over features. Her voice was as low and lilting as a cricket's chirping during her quiet rant to L, whom she held at arm's length, quite literally. She had her palms clenched onto his shoulders like hooks and looked him straight in the eye.

"You ate Miyagi-san," she stated. "You went into my room and thought, 'That goldfish in the glass bowl in O's room sure looks lonely. There's a eighty-five-point-three-two percent chance that this fish wants to join its mutant brethren in the sewer, and the only way it could be reunited with its family is if I allow him to go in my mouth, down my esophagus, through my duodenum and out of my anus. Thus letting him taste true freedom in my fecal matter as it travels in the sewer.'"

O didn't let go of L as she went off on her tangent of crazy ridiculousness. She just matched his stare with a slightly crazed one of her own, unblinkingly, like an overly attached girlfriend.

"You are wrong," he simply said, as O finally released him.

"So you didn't eat him?" she guessed, eyes hopeful.

"No. I was simply gauging your potential as a detective assistant, and you have failed horribly. Miyagi-san remains in perfect health on the top shelf of your linen closet."

"So, you were just testing…me?"

L nods.

"Goddammit, L!"

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**If you haven't watched Overly Attached Girlfriend...well, I guess you wouldn't get nothing out of it except nightmares, so don't watch it. Review?**


	5. Apathy

**Reason Five**

"**Apathetic Tendencies"**

Light was sort of jealous of L. Also, slightly disappointed in him. O might not be the most attractive girl look at, but she wasn't as annoying as most girls who pined for his attention. She was still annoying, mind you. Naturally curious, Light wanted to see how L worked when it came to other guys flirting with his girlfriend. If he really was as child-like as everyone perceived him to be, would he get jealous easily? Would he treat O as a possession only he can choose to manipulate? He decided to launch his own separate investigation while working with the quirky detective.

It started when O walked into the room, dressed in her usual black blouse and grey skirt. Her scuffed boots looked as worn as ever, rubbing together with an irritating squeaking sound while she moved. Her hair was like a curtain of dark streamers that trailed to the small of her back, desperately needed by a pair of scissors. She seemed to want to make L notice the frames of her new glasses, which were a deep violet. All her flaunting was for naught as L muttered a greeting to her, never looking away from what he was occupied with.

"Hey, Ryuzaki," she replied, taking a seat next to him. Light noticed how her body slumped at L's lack of attention, so he was quick to address O a little more nicely. Besides, a bit of flattery never hurt anyone, right?

"Good afternoon, O," the brunet greeted cordially, a smile gracing his face. "You look different today."

The only female of the trio glanced up at Light, her lips jerking slightly as if to stop the grin that wanted to tear at her face. Most women would bloom beet red at his charm, so it was no use in her resisting. O eventually gave in, the sheen of her eyeglasses shielding her smiling eyes.

"You hear that, Ryuzaki?" she asked L, cupping her face in her left hand. A smirk was on her face. "Light thinks I look different. What do you think?"

L turned his eyes away from the records he was reading to shortly examine O. After a few seconds, he mutely nodded his head.

"It's a welcome change from your usual appearance," he said, getting back to work. O tilted her head curiously, probably confused as to how she was supposed to take that. With L, it was difficult to decipher the difference between an insult and a compliment. She settled with fuming silently, her arms crossed over her chest in her trademark stance.

_Might as well take advantage of the situation, _Light thought. He called O over, saying that he needed assistance in putting together some lines when he would act as L as soon as he contacts one of the members of the Yotsuba group. He really didn't need any preparation in the first place, being as brilliant as he was, but anything to find out about the inner workings of the genius detective he was chained to.

As O kindly explained to him what he needed to change, Light slowly got closer to the dark-haired girl. She didn't seem to mind his gradual breach of privacy. By the time he had his hand on her shoulder, the brunet caught L's blank stare. Even though there was no trace of emotion in those dark depths of his, Light could tell that the man wanted him to back off. _So he _still _acts childish, even when it comes to this, _he thought as he resisted the urge to smirk.

"Light?" he asked, in his usual monotone.

The younger male could've let out a laugh as rambunctious as Ryuk's. He was going to confront him about his casual behavior with his girlfriend! Would he act like he did some time ago and lash out, like when he claimed that he was under a depression because of the Kira investigation not moving along? It wouldn't be the reaction Light would like, but it would be interesting to see. After all, he was the instigator in both situations.

"Yes, Ryuzaki?" Light responded, waiting patiently. L lifted a finger towards his direction.

"Could you pass me the cake on that cart, please?"

The brunet felt his heart plummet like Misa wearing a steel dress and jumping off of a building. The detective had indeed been pointing to a cart that happened to be conveniently placed behind him. With a quiet sigh, Light obeyed and gave him the pastry on a plate.

It was safe to say that O was not pleased.

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**Sorry for the lack of humor in this one! So what do you think O should do with our lovely L?**


	6. Always Right

**Reason Six**

"**Always Right"**

As much as she wanted a healthy lifestyle for L, O wasn't exactly into promoting it for herself. Today, she wanted to change that. If she chose a way to die, it might as well be at the hands of Kira, rather than her consumption of various junk food. So when dinnertime came around, she asked for Watari to bring her something healthy to her room.

She didn't want to eat in the company of L due to the other day's events. It wasn't even something as petty as commenting on her new glasses that's got her upset. It's the fact that he didn't bother to lay claim to her when Light was oh-so-obvious in his shameless flirting. If L couldn't go out of his way to defend her, what would have to happen if a _stranger _came onto her like that?

O's door suddenly opens, which is strange. Watari would at least knock before entering her room, so it lead her to the conclusion that L was here. She observed that he was holding her dinner, which was a salad with small tomatoes in it. He seemed as disgusted as she was at the old man's healthy meal, holding the plate far away from him.

"I see you're making changes to your diet, O," the detective said, placing it in front of her on the bed. She just nodded her head in response, reluctantly picking up her fork. She savagely stabbed the lettuce. "Is there something wrong?"

O simply shakes her head, eating the thin layers of green. There was a look discomfort on her face before she swallowed them down. She placed the fork on the plate and stared at L before asking, "You're here for a reason other than watching me eat, right?"

"Correct," he agreed, taking the single chair in the room and scooting it over to the base of her bed so they could see face to face. He sat on it in his trademark gargoyle stance and took O's fork, skewering one of the tomatoes with it. "I'm here to apologize for whatever I've done to offend you."

"Well, if that's the case-"

"And to make sure you eat every last thing on your plate."

Great. L sounded like a parent trying to enforce the law that his child should always eat her vegetables. Pretty ironic when her boyfriend's the biggest child in the universe. Her pride plummeted even more when the man shoved a tomato into her mouth, as if she couldn't feed herself. He was about to do it again, but she quickly rejected his assistance.

"Good luck with that; I don't even like vegetables," O informed, pointedly gathering up the tomatoes on her plate in a group so she could commit genocide swiftly with the prongs of her fork. She looked up to see L bring his thumb to his lips. That could only mean he's about to say something that could:

A.) Piss her off.

B.) Have nothing to do with the current situation

C.) Be some trivia that stems from the unending fountain of knowledge that's his brain.

"Tomatoes aren't vegetables; they are fruit."

_C it is, then, _O bitterly mused.

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**Sorry for the wait. Next chapter's out, as well. It's longer, and more entertaining. A hint: It involves O's family :)**


	7. Creeping out the Family

**Reason Seven**

"**Creeping out the Family"**

The first time O had L meet her family, he had made quite the impression on them. Well, whatever impression one could make when perceived as nothing but an altered voice coming from a laptop.

They were gathered in the dining room of her parents' house. Her father, Jun, a rather thin man with a scary, angular face, sat directly in front of the computer. His arms were crossed over his chest and his large, black eyes were sending his daughter skeptical looks, in which she promptly ignored. Her full-figured mother, Fujiko, sat to her husband's left, tending to her dark hair in a nervous habit.

"Mom, L doesn't care about your looks," O said to her, and Fujiko looked like she just spoke of dismantling the Japanese government. Her almost non-existent eyebrows shot up to her hairline, her garishly painted lips forming a neon-pink circle almost as wide as the lenses of O's glasses.

"Well, he probably doesn't care about yours that much, either, the way _you _dress," she harshly replied, reaching across Jun to pull at the hem of O's frayed plaid skirt. The second youngest member of the family swatted at her critical mother's hand, frowning. "You don't care for your future. Why can't you dress nice like your brother?"

Ah, O surely _did _miss "The-Reason-You-Suck-and-Why-Your-Brother-Doesn't" Speech from her mother. According to her father, Fujiko's been griping about her daughter even when she was in the womb. Thankfully, he's kind enough to make his wife see the redeeming qualities in his oldest child, sometimes, going as far as pointing out the flaws in his youngest.

"Speaking of that boy, what's he up to?" grumbled Jun, turning his gaze towards the staircase near the entrance of the dining room. "Saito! Get down here!"

"Dad, you know that Saito doesn't respond to Japanese, right?" reminded the bespectacled girl, remembering her little brother's odd quirks. He's been talking to an American girl over video chat for a year now, and now wants everyone in his family to address him in English so he could understand her better. In that case, only his sister's able to get through to him. Now that she's been actively working with her mysterious boyfriend, there's little to no communication between Saito and his parents…which annoys the latter party to no end.

O's tried to teach them a few phrases, but Jun's too prideful to accept sounding a bit like those people in the stereotypical samurai movies dubbed in English they used to watch when O was in middle school. As for Fujiko, she'd rather go with the language in which she sounds more attractive using.

"Saito, come here!" O exclaimed in perfect English; she learned how to speak it from Watari once she was informed of L's heritage. Thudding footsteps could be heard, approaching the trio's direction until a tall boy with dyed blond hair appeared. His eyes brightened at the sight of his older sister, whom he absolutely swallowed in his large build. It's unfair how the boy's only sixteen and six-foot-one, which is _way _over the average height of Japanese men (which is five-foot-seven).

"Missed you, sis!" he said in accented English, glancing at the laptop on the table; it was now sporting the letter L in ornate script. "What's going on?"

"You're going to meet my boyfriend."

As if on cue, there was a crackling sound coming out of the laptop. Everyone, save for O, was leaning forward in anticipation. Then:

"Greetings, Kobayashi family," a monotonous voice with auditory enhancements greeted. _Good start, so far_, O supposed. "I apologize for taking so long; I was taking certain precautions."

"Precautions?" spat Fujiko, indignant. O felt her father's bulbous eyes on her again. "You say that as if we're a danger to you, or something."

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Mrs. Kobayashi. Due to my occupation, I can't be too reckless in giving my true identity to anyone. If you were a danger, I wouldn't have decided to have a relationship with O," he explained.

It was then that O engaged in a face-palm so forceful, it was sure to erase the memory of the last fifteen seconds she just experienced.

"Really?" Jun piped up. "Then how does my daughter even maintain that 'relationship' you claim to have together if she hasn't even seen your face?"

"She's seen my face before…along with the remaining ninety-seven-point-three percent of my body," L quipped in English, and Saito blushed, eyes darting between the computer screen and his sister's horrified face repeatedly. Fujiko and Jun were lost in translation.

"What?" Fujiko urged, nudging her most talked-about son in the arm. "What did he say?"

"L says that he knows about the American girl Saito's been talking to and how it's cute he has a crush on her, that's all," O edited, adding on a chuckle that ended as quickly as it began. It was Saito's turn to be mortified, his blond hair flopping into his eyes, which were wide with surprise.

"Actually," L continued in Japanese, "I do know of her. It's probably best to let your brother know that she is actually biologically male."

"You're lying!" Saito accused, but was stopped by his sister's hand on his shoulder.

"Sadly, L has every resource available to prove himself right, so if you want to keep the remainder of dignity, you'd suck it up and accept the truth for what it is," she informed, not stopping him when he stormed upstairs to his room.

"Now, hold on, you!" Fujiko shouted to the screen, her manicured nails clicking against the table. "Have you been…stalking our family?"

As usual, no hesitation from someone who's so sure of himself.

"No, but I _have _run background checks on you. According to my sources, Mrs. Kobayashi, you used to run a street gang in your younger years."

Jun looked at his wife-a perfect duplication of the painting _The Scream_- over, as if the spawn of Satan appeared right next to him. Of course, he wasn't going to be free of L's unnecessary measures.

"And you, Mr. Kobayashi. You used to be a model for an American pornographic magazine that was popular back in your younger years," L deadpanned, and Jun was glared at by his wife. O was sure that her nosy boyfriend was going to continue on so she closed the laptop and chucked it out of the nearest window, hearing someone-who sounded suspiciously like Light-yelp in shock.

Way to meet the family and subtly tell them that they could be blackmailed at any time.

* * *

**How would you introduce L to your family?**


	8. Slouch

**Reason Eight**

"**Slouch"**

O's been in her room, scouring the world wide web on her laptop. She was hoping to find a solution for L's slouching problem before he makes Watari shut off her connection to cyberspace. She knows that the detective has that one rule about his specific posture contributing to his high deduction rate, but could a back brace really hurt his performance rate that bad?

Unfortunately, just as she was about to place the order, the screen went black and an ornate W popped in the center of it. O respected Watari, and never once thought ill of him. Who would resent someone sweet enough to prepare you meals that overwhelmed your taste buds so much that you start to forget your presence on Earth? However, O wished that the man would act outside of L's influence, and side with her, sometimes.

"I'm sorry, O. You know how L feels about your use of the internet," Watari informs, sounding genuinely apologetic. The girl sighed softly, idly wringing her hands now that she had nothing to do with them.

"It's fine, Watari. You're just doing your job," she replied, understanding of his place as her boyfriend's assistant. Suddenly, inspiration struck. "Speaking of which, did you make L's first meal, yet?"

"I was about to bring it to him, yes. Why did you ask?"

"You'll see."

An hour passed and much to Watari's surprise, O showed up to his quarters, an exact replica of him. She was dressed in business professional clothes much like his own, had her hair slicked back. Even a fake mustache graced her top lip. The caretaker didn't know whether to be amused or flattered, so he settled with directing a kind smile towards her way.

"Let me take over delivering L's food for you, Watari," O said to the old man, heading over to the cart that carried the delicacies the detective had a fancy for. At a loss for words, he simply let the girl go, hoping that she wasn't planning to do anything drastic.

The newly self-appointed servant wheeled the cart to its destination, surprising those who were present. The only person who responded vocally was the baffled Matsuda, who commented, "Is that Watari's son or something?" L simply shook his head, but it wasn't clear if the gesture was directed at the young officer's observation or at O. Of course, the latter meant for him to see through her ruse.

"Everyone, please take a break. Feel free to take some of the snacks Watari Jr. has brought on your way out," L said, reaching over to retrieve a piece of cake. The others chose to leave the room, eager to be free of L, perhaps. Except Matsuda, who crept slowly over to the cart to get a closer look at the mysterious "Watari Jr." When "he" looked up, the doe-eyed man laughed nervously.

"Cake, Master Matsuda?" "he" offered, holding a plate up to him. He nodded his head enthusiastically, accepting the pastry.

"Thank you, Watari Jr.!" he exclaimed, stopping himself from digging in when something occurred to him. "For some reason, you remind me of someone…hmm, weird."

Once the oblivious officer walked off, O cackled. She didn't want to think of Matsuda as some idiot like the others did, but he was really making it easy for her to assume so. She straightened her suit jacket and dusted off the lapels, facing L with a smile. His thumb was being gnawed on, so that meant he was lining up some questions for her to answer.

"Why are you dressed like that, O?" was his first question, his eyes observed her appearance.

"Since you don't listen to me as much as you should, I decided to become Watari for a day," O answered. It was safe to say that L's voice of reason was Watari, since the man raised and taught the socially inept guy she's come to adore…in some strange way. Was it so wrong to assume his identity so O can mold him into a functioning member of society, starting with his posture?

"Hmm…interesting," he simply mused, then went back to eating his cake without sharing another word with her.

O spent almost the rest of her day trying to figure out what to do to correct L's back. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, appearing to give him a hug. As much as she'd like to justify this closeness as being romantic (if it was, the detective would turn a blind eye, anyway), she couldn't. By wrapping herself around him and leaning backward firmly, she's been subtly trying to forcibly correct the alignment of his spine. There was just one problem:

The man's way stronger than he looks.

No matter how hard O tugged, it seemed to be nigh impossible to remove him from his crouch. Much to Matsuda's embarrassment, she was still in the guise of Watari Jr. while doing so, and the poor thing was blushing furiously. She heard him trying to convince himself (and others) that Watari Jr. was just giving L a friendly massage using some weird European method.

After about thirty minutes of constant failed attempts, O gave up. She shrugged off the stuffy suit jacket she had been wearing, ruffled her hair, then ripped off the fake moustache and threw it at L's head.

"I don't think I would look right with a moustache, O, but thank you, anyway," he remarked, peeling the false hair off of his forehead and placing it back on O.

"Dammit, L! You have the posture of a jumbo shrimp; at least you can listen to me about correcting _that_!"

"That was O!?" Matsuda shouted, sounding relieved and shocked simultaneously.

* * *

**Now that I'm on break, expect a lot more. I've got chapters 9-18 planned. Next chapter hint: Sick**


	9. Workaholic

**Reason Nine**

"**Workaholic"**

The next day, O found it especially difficult to breathe. Her head felt like it was full of cotton and it throbbed painfully. As much as she wanted to leave her bed, her body wouldn't allow it. If she so much as moved her fingers, they responded with an aching sensation. She stared up at the ceiling, rolling her eyes. Great. She was sick. Fighting her way through the dull aches and pains, the messy-haired girl sat up in her bed and rested her pounding head against the headboard.

"I guess I should call Watari," she said, realizing that her voice was nasal-sounding. She reached for the dresser. L had given her a necklace that acted as a remote to alert the old caretaker should O need him. Of course, there were certain conditions that had to be met in order for her to use it. One of which was to use it if she was incapacitated, which was pretty relevant to her situation at the moment, so she pressed the black jewel and waited.

"Yes, O?" Watari's voice greeted pleasantly. O wondered how the man didn't turn bitter with the routine L has been putting him through. Nonetheless, she appreciated his presence and aspired to have patience as great as his. She informed him of her situation, and he promised to have something made to alleviate her condition in a few moments. In the meantime, she would have to occupy herself. Well, solving puzzles was something she liked to do to kill time. Sometimes, she would talk as if she was L because there's nothing like sounding unreasonably sophisticated while solving English crossword puzzles.

"'Small red fruit?' Judging by the spaces, there is a ninety-nine-point-nine chance of the word not being cherry, so the correct answer is most definitely 'strawberry,'" O stated as robotically as she could, writing dramatically to mimic someone else. One of her quirks was to pick up subconscious habits that usually belonged to others. She was fascinated by Light and his interesting way of writing. It was as if his regular activities were an articulate performance, the way his arm swayed through the air when he thought no one was watching. Just play an ominous soundtrack behind it, title the show, "Mundane Made Awesome" and that's easy money right there!

"I'm Queen of the Crosswords!" O proclaimed drunkenly, sticking pencils between her fingers and crossing her arms over her chest as if she was some claw-wielding superhero.

"You seem to be having fun for someone who is supposed to be sick, Your Highness."

Never in the history of the world has writing utensils moved at the speed of light… until now.

Upon the realization that L has been watching her for undetermined amount of time, O's cheeks bloomed a furious red. She didn't need anymore heat by the way her forehead seemed to create its own forcefield made from its warmth. Being so sneaky was one of those qualities that she didn't really like about the detective. He was like a ninja-detective…a panda ninja-detective with the posture of a jumbo shrimp. O absentmindedly wondered what L would taste like if he was a shrimp. Maybe like strawberries.

"L is the Strawberry Sugar Shrimp!" she whispered (or at least, _thought _she did) to herself, as if clued in to some sort of conspiracy. Suddenly, her blood ran cold and she dove back under her covers. She groaned. "What the hell am I talking about?"

L closed the door, probably sensing that O has finally lost the battle to lunacy under the influence of a powerful fever. Luckily, Watari has given him a special medicine that would help reduce the effect her symptoms were having on her. However, he would have to make sure that the medicine was administered properly or risk O's health. The medicine was indeed helpful, but it was very, very potent. One dose too many and his girlfriend might lose all sense of reality.

"It sounds like you're experiencing delirium," L stated, his voice sounding muffled from behind the mask he was wearing. He went over to O's side of the bed, sitting down in front of her. He placed his palm on her forehead, discovering that it was very warm. "You're running a very high temperature."

O sang a fanfare, then said in a slurred voice, "Captain Obvious is obvious!" She paused, as if it was just brought to her attention that L was still present in her room. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I'm here to give you this medicine, and monitor you until you fall asleep," he answered, pulling a small vial of red liquid out of his pocket. He grabbed O's chin. "Say 'ahh…'"

O might have not been of a sound mind, but she was conscious enough to be a bit suspicious. L usually didn't stop his investigating for anybody, herself included. Was he actually showing some improvement in being a better boyfriend? There was a part of her that thought that everything L did was part of some secret agenda only he and Watari was clued in on, and she was sure that this was some sort of plot to catch Kira…however that might go. Then again, that side might be influenced by the brief bouts of loony she was going through.

"Ahh…" O finally relented, totally caught off-guard when L squeezed the vial and directed its contents into her nostril instead of her mouth. "What the hell, L!?"

"This medicine will take effect soon, and make your body feel cold, so I would suggest getting comfortable," the masked detective prompted, lifting the covers. O snatched the covers back, incredulous, turning her back to him. L failed to understand the problem. "I'm only trying to help."

With a sigh, she said, "And I'm only in my underwear."

She peeked over her shoulder, thankful that her vision was blurry without her glasses. L was nothing but a blur of black, white, and blue. That same varicolored blur remained still, and she hoped that it would stay that way. Of course, this was L. He was going to defy her because it was L's way or L's way. Either way, she had no say in the matter. She shivered violently. Great. All the more reason to guarantee that the man get his way.

"That shouldn't be a problem. My body heat should be enough to maintain a reasonable temperature," he simply replied, getting under the covers with ease. O stiffened, afraid to turn around. This would be the first time they shared a bed together and she just _had _to be halfway out of her mind during. Even her immune system was rebelling against her! Eventually, she stopped being a coward and faced L; he had taken his mask off.

"Why did you take your mask off?" she asked him, trying to ignore the sensation of his arms curling around her.

"I'm accustomed enough to your germs since I'm the only one you keep in constant contact with."

"That makes sense, I guess."

O put her hands against the fabric of L's shirt, idly tapping her fingers against the collar. His facial expression remained as blank as ever.

"Hey, L?" she said softly, glancing briefly into his attentive eyes.

"Yes, O?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

O didn't want to spoil the moment by being resistant so she just relaxed in L's arms. Despite the circumstances under which this had to happen, she thought it was rather nice to be where she was now. Even with the universe conspiring against her, she was pretty certain that nothing could interrupt this special moment they were sharing-

_Buzz!_

Somewhere inside O, something died. One might know it as hope.

"I'm sorry," L said, leaving her shivering under the covers. "If you're still cold, I can have Matsuda come in-"

"WHAT!?" O shouted, shooting out of her bed. What kind of a boyfriend would suggest sending another man in to warm his girlfriend up? Oh, right! _L._

Setting aside any dignity she had by confronting L in her underwear, the sick girl jabbed her pointer finger into his chest.

"L, you've been doing nothing but working on this case," she accused, hearing her voice get hoarser and hoarser with every word that went past her lips. "Can't you stay a little longer?"

He shook his head. "O, please get some rest."

O let herself be the child for once, and crossed her arms over her chest. "No!"

"You leave me no choice, then."

Before she could blink, L swept O off of her feet.

Literally.

He kicked her legs out from under her, caught her, and carried her to her bed. When she refused to stay still, he pinched a pressure point that made her lose consciousness. Pulling the covers back and placing her under them, he tucked her in like a father would his child-complete with a kiss to her forehead.

"Be good, O. And get better," he said to her, locking the door behind him.

Unfortunately, she got worse.

* * *

**I think it would've been easier to catch Kira if L set up some sort of writing test. Here's how it would go: the potential Kira would be in a room with a pen and paper. He would be asked to write an essay, set to that dramatic music you hear in the anime. L would arrest the one who wrote with the most gusto, and bam, world saved! Foolproof, huh? **

**Anyway, guys, thanks for reviewing!**


	10. Oblivious to LoveOr Is He?

**Yay~! 10th chapter! Thanks, guys, for sticking with me! I'm glad you guys enjoy this story. Some things I noticed when I wrote this:**

**1.) It's longer than all of the other chapters (though, not combined).**

**2.) I write better with the door closed. **

**Enjoy the wackiness that follows (well, on O's part)!**

* * *

**Reason Ten**

"**Oblivious to Seduction…or Is He?"**

Despite being knocked unconscious by her own boyfriend, O felt ten times better once she woke up. Her nasal passages were no longer irritated, her throat didn't feel like it was scrubbed raw, and her headache was minimal. She put on her glasses to correct her blurry vision, then stretched. In the middle of her much needed stretch, her hand accidentally knocked something off of the dresser to her right. Upon closer observation, O realized that it was the medicine that L gave her. Not one to head back to work unless she's one-hundred percent, the bespectacled girl decided to empty the rest of the red liquid in her nostril.

Suddenly, she felt rejuvenated. No, that wasn't the word for it. Everything was…_electric. _The air seemed to be buzzing, rubbing against her as if it was a cloth. Her senses heightened, and simple activities like breathing was a surreal experience. Her breath flowed out of her mouth in a blue stream of light that she could manipulate with a quick flick of her finger. Her thoughts were tangible, blooming into existence before her very eyes in a red, bulbous vapor. The vapor transformed into various images. There was a vapor cloud shaped like L's head, next to pieces of cake and strawberries. For some odd reason, O concluded that this manifestation meant that she had to seduce him to the best of her abilities, using the very edible items that appeared to her.

Thus began O's descent into debilitating, but hilarious madness.

* * *

L was hard at work, as usual. He was alone in his endeavors, which was fine because he found that he worked efficiently without any sort of noise to distract him. His mind, however, was a different story. It supplied him with recent memories of O, and how she had been so upset about him leaving to work on the investigation. He wished that she could remember what she agreed to on that day when she wanted to get involved with him. It was disheartening that she focused on their relationship instead of ridding the world of Kira. Perhaps when he has beaten Kira, he might consider listening to O and being this person she wants to sculpt him into, for her sake.

The detective was just about to contact Watari to find out about his girlfriend's whereabouts, until she came walking in…not quite herself.

"Hello, Ryuzaki~!" O sang, dancing provocatively around in a costume shaped like a strawberry. The costume itself seemed to be hastily put together, appearing to be constructed out of the red curtains that anyone could scavenge from any of the hotel rooms. The plastic green fronds that sprouted around the crown of it were probably taken from the many potted plants that lined the hallways, and haphazardly stuck into the thought-provoking outfit. Naturally unaffected by this turn of events, L remained in his trademark crouch as he watched O make a fool out of herself. He was trying to figure out what would make her act so strangely when he has given her the medicine…

Oh, no.

L climbed out of the chair he was sitting in to check his pockets for the vial, his search yielding nothing.

"O," he calmly called, "what did you do with the medicine I gave you?"

O just giggled, grabbing L around the waist and swaying side-to-side to coax him into waltzing with her. She glanced up, and the man noticed that her eyes were heavily glassed over. "I drank it all, silly! A girl's gotta be at her best health if she's gonna be with the world's three best detectives~!"

Praise from O? That definitely meant that she was under the influence. Even though it would nice to be showered with compliments from the critical girl, L couldn't let her remain this way any longer. He was careless, a term that rarely applied to him, for leaving the medicine behind in her reach. He didn't want to admit it, but O was slowly achieving her goal of changing him way earlier than he'd like. It was either that, or he was being emotionally manipulated by some outside force behind a computer screen.

Huh, that last thought was peculiar.

Before he could contemplate further, O interrupted L's train of thought by placing several sloppy kisses on his face.

"Hey," the affectionate girl whined, "y-you don't taste anything like the cake you eat!"

"I apologize for not meeting your standards, O," he answered, reaching out to pinch her lips between his fingers like the end of a balloon, "but I need you to calm down before you develop severe mental damage."

L heard what he thought was a cross between a dog's bark and a goose's call, but that was just his recently-turned-lunatic girlfriend attempting to laugh through her pinched lips. She managed to remove them from his grip, hopping back to put her hands on her hips.

"What do you mean, 'mental damage'? I'm perfectly fine! See?"

She did a little dance-the "Macarena," to be precise-to demonstrate her obvious sanity. At the end of her convincing demonstration, she became dizzy and fell to the floor, her glasses landing next to her. When her eyes fluttered open, she saw a bug-eyed shrimp glancing down at her-and it resembled L.

"My glasses were hiding the truth from me," O hissed, jerking up from the floor in a blur. She pointed accusingly at the hunched shrimp standing quietly in front of her, backing away warily. "You really _are _a shrimp! That explains everything! The aversion to human contact, regular food, and that _horrible _posture…!"

"O, keep calm. You're hallucinating," L informed, moving closer to her with every step she took.

"What kind of advice is that!? See, only a shrimp can come up with that kind of-"

"What's going on here?" asked a baffled, wide-eyed Matsuda, entering the room at such an opportune time for L. The detective grabbed O by the wrist, ignoring her insane protests, and practically throwing her in the youngest member of the task force's arms.

"Matsuda, you couldn't have come at a better time. Can you please take O to her room and watch over her until I come by?" L requested in a manner that pretty much described that his demand was mandatory to carry out. Matsuda wordlessly nodded his head, no doubt confused about the whole situation. Why was he always left out of the loop? You would think that he would be respected due to his participation in this investigation, with risking his life and all. There were times where he felt like he was just kept around as some comic relief character that never seemed to measure up next to the others. He just hoped that he wasn't one of those people that would snap just because of being chronically useless.

Matsuda successfully delivered O to her room, and waited outside. He overheard her weird ramblings about strawberry shortcake and control freak shrimp, really concerned. He had once heard about how sore she would get about Ryuzaki's quirks and habits, but never like this. She seemed almost…_crazy. _He believed that Ryuzaki had the potential to drive the most patient of people crazy. He remembered Misa-Misa-with that usual pure excitement he loved about her-talking about how Light held his own in a fight with the odd investigator.

He snapped out of his thoughts to greet Watari, who managed a cartful of the main subject of O's ramblings. Once the old man was done with his task, Matsuda asked of her condition. When the caretaker answered him, the young officer kind of wished he wasn't so curious.

"So she might lose her mind if she doesn't calm down?" he crowed, his eyes round with astonishment. "Whoa, that's pretty bad."

Watari nodded once. "Fortunately, Ryuzaki is on his way with the antidote. He knows O has the tendency to rush certain things when there's no need for haste."

Scratching the back of his head, Matsuda struggled to lighten the atmosphere. "Well, she should be calm now, with all that cake. Ha ha ha…"

"Yes, that seems to be the case," Watari said, his mustache bristling as he smiled. "O has informed me that she will be taking a bath soon, so please be sure to check on her every few minutes. Ryuzaki wouldn't be pleased if anything were to happen to her."

"Of course! You can leave it to me!"

There was a little masochistic part in his brain that wondered what would happen to him if he failed the simple task as Watari left him to continue keeping an eye on O. The least the detective could do was ban him from the investigation and the worst…he thought back on what happened to Light and Misa when they were under suspicion, and tried to comprehend what that was like ten times over. However, because Ryuzaki was over-the-top in anything he did, Matsuda's punishment would most likely not stop with torture or detainment.

A chill slithered up his spine at the possibilities.

His overactive imagination settled down once O's voice called out to him. He opened the door, noticing the missing curtains that usually complimented the vanilla-colored walls of every hotel room. The cart was no longer home to the many cakes it used to carry; the only things left behind were the empty containers. Matsuda didn't think that O had the appetite of two Ryuzakis.

"Um, O?" he called to the unresponsive air. "Is there something you need?"

"Matsuda, could you help me out here?" came O's voice from the left of him, from the bathroom door. His blood automatically traveled to his cheeks. As much as he loved to help others, he was pretty sure that if he was going to help the girl out, there would be a high chance of her being…er, without clothes. Hesitantly, he tiptoed towards the door, wringing his bottom lip like a nervous child.

"W-What exactly do you need help with?"

Of course, he was stalling. Suppose he went inside to help. He knew O wasn't in her right mind. What if she accused him of sexually assaulting her, or something? Matsuda wouldn't be able to take that heavy of a sentence. His head would explode from all of the blood that rushed to it! Then again, he figured that he was simply being unreasonably cowardly. Seeing a naked body wouldn't hurt that much, would it? He'd seen _dead _ones, for crying out loud!

"I can't feel anything, Matsuda!"

Judging by the unstable edge in her voice, O was either really frightened or experiencing a psychotic breakdown. Either way, it was Matsuda's duty to assist her. He commanded his heart to slow its hard, erratic beating. His shaky hand closed around the doorknob, twisting it. He opened the door with a bit too much gusto, he sorely realized upon hearing the sharp cracking sound it made against the wall.

_It's not a raid, you idiot, _his mind berated, as he took in his surroundings.

The bathroom was larger than he was accustomed to, keeping true to the vanilla and crimson color scheme of the room. The second thing that caught his attention was the sink to his right. It was smeared with fingerprints-_red _ones. _Oh, God, _the officer thought. _What did O do? _There was a wall in front of him, which would have been clean and pristine if it wasn't for the red streaks traveling across the tiles. They created a chaotic pattern that ultimately wound itself around the wall, where he could see the end of a bathtub. A young woman's feet laid motionlessly on the lip of the porcelain tub, her toes also covered in that alarming color. Matsuda exhaled through his nose, preparing himself for whatever gruesome sight that waited for him behind that wall. He gathered his wits, every step he took heavier than the last. When he finally glanced around the wall, he really wished he was right about O having the appetite of two Ryuzakis.

* * *

L returned to the twenty-third floor with the antidote in hand. He was sure that O hadn't fallen too deep into the depths of madness just yet for her body to reject the serum he had to make himself. He might've been careless enough to leave the medicine in her reach, but he wasn't shortsighted when it came to predicting what would happen if he introduced her to such an effective and potent medicine. He took that fact into consideration during the time he was making the antidote; it was perfectly safe to ingest it in all of its entirety without any harrowing side effects.

L was pleased to see Matsuda standing guard in front of O's room, perfectly still.

Or, _trying _to be.

Nothing could escape the detective's keen eye. He saw the manner in which the young officer's breathing hitched, the way he blinked a time too many. His hands were balled into fists, a gesture that wasn't common for someone as easygoing as Matsuda. Something had happened while he was gone, and he was going to get to the bottom of it, no matter what method he would have to-

"O's in the b-bathroom, t-taking a b-bath!" Matsuda blurted out.

"And you left her there, knowing how mentally unstable she is!?" L nearly shouted. He might never know why the idiot of the bunch always managed to get him to raise his voice above its desired level. Composing himself, he pushed past the mortified man to get to the bathroom. He almost busted down the door in his urgency to find out what happened to O, barely noticing the red marks on the sink and wall prior to locating her in the bathtub.

"Except there's no water…" he heard Matsuda murmur belatedly, punctuated with a thump. Poor thing must have fainted due to the sensory overload.

"How the mighty have fallen," L commented.

O was naked, nothing but cake and strawberries smeared everywhere, including her most…private of parts. To be fair, she _did _say she was taking a bath.

"Heyyy, L! Care to join me?" she slurred, her try at adding an enticing edge to her suggestion ruined when her stoic boyfriend scooped a handful of whipped cream off of her shoulder.

"You know, this cake is still good. Are you going to eat the rest of it?" he queried, licking his fingers clean of the morsel he took.

"I was hoping that…never mind," O relented, passing out. It's probably best if she doesn't remember this…

* * *

**How the mighty have fallen indeed. So guys, what would you do if you came home from a long day of work/school/etc. and L was there to interrogate you on your whereabouts? That's what O is about to go through...next time! Have a splendid day!**


	11. Unwanted Interrogations

**Reason Eleven**

**"Unwanted Interrogations"**

O went outside for some fresh air. It surprised her that she actually crept past L without him having some sort of convoluted plot preventing her from leaving his sight. For the first time, there had been little resistance on his part, no ridiculous reasoning. She supposed that she was free to do what she wanted now, as long as she had her cell phone with her. Those were terms that she could easily agree to, looking forward to stretch her legs after being sick for a week. Or at least, that was what L claimed how long she was out for once she had woken up. Perhaps she had given him a lot of trouble while she was under the weather. She was usually resistant to getting any kind of cold, but when she did fall ill, she could have some major attitude problems.

On the chance that she had, she wanted to make it up to him. So why not use her time wisely and get him some gifts? O was picky when it came to shopping, though. She once visited about a dozen shopping malls for a gift for L's birthday last year, and only got two or three things at the end of her outing. If she knew what's good for her, she would want to pick up his gifts as fast as she could. But as time ran on and on, O got a bit too carried away. It was early morning when she left the hotel. Currently, it was eighteen minutes past seven, and the overwhelmed shopper's arms were laced with a multitude of bags. Some contained various brands of tea that she was sure that the detective would like, while others had a few tea sets and various sweets. She considered calling Watari to help ease the load of her burden, but decided against it, not wanting to burden the old man. She was pretty sure she exhausted his services during the time she spent as a sweaty mess of germs. If she recalled correctly, she had a bad headache, stuffy nose, and a terribly high fever. O had to thank the caretaker when she got back because there was no way that she could remain so benevolent and caring in _her _seventies.

Her arms and legs were aching by the time she made it back to her room.

"L better appreciate this," she grumbled, shutting the door behind her. The light was on; probably another gesture of kindness on Watari's part. She was just about to contact him when a familiar voice snagged her attention.

"What do I need to appreciate, O?" L himself asked, startling his girlfriend. He eyed the bags on her arms curiously.

"Ugh, you've got to stop sneaking up on people like that!"

"Actually, 'sneaking up' would have to imply that I had the intent to scare you."

O huffed, placing the bags on her bed. "Well, you did, anyway." She linked her hands behind her back, glancing down at her feet. Gaining enough courage, she looked L in the eyes. "I just wanted to get some things for you since you had to deal with me being sick and all, if you're curious about why I've been out."

L delicately went through one of the bags, pulling out a box of graham crackers.

"Thank you," he said softly, "but I'm actually curious about something else entirely."

O sat down on her bed, removing her boots and putting on some slippers. "About what?"

"Your age. Why would you lie about it?"

O sighed. Of course, L would have his questions about that. His timing was just so damn inappropriate that she almost didn't want to answer.

"Your girlfriend just came home with some gifts to thank you for taking care of her, and you ask her that? Dammit, L," the curly-haired woman griped, sulking. L grabbed a chair, set in front of O, and sat in his usual crouch to observe her closely. "So I've been nineteen for three years straight. So what?"

"I just find it odd that you prefer to have an eight-year gap between us," he informed, his dark eyes peering up at her. "Perhaps you'd like to pretend that you're in a relationship with an older man?"

"You make it sound like I'm going out with Watari when you put it that way!" O exclaimed, a bit disturbed by that image.

"That would be a bit disconcerting, yes, but it's not totally uncommon. If I revealed myself to be Watari, would you continue this relationship?"

"Ew, L! I'm twenty-two! Watari's, like, seventy-three! And I'm pretty sure that's impossible!"

O hoped that Watari wasn't listening in on this conversation. It'd be pretty awkward to thank him for his help when L wasn't busy pairing her and him together. Ugh, what went on in that head of his? Did the twenty-seven-year-old have some sort of sixteen-year-old fiction writer in his head somewhere? She shuddered at the thought of the possibilities. Was he one of those loons who ship _real _people together?

"I'm sure Watari would be heartbroken if he heard your reaction," L said, biting his thumb. "You still didn't answer my previous question, though. Why do you prefer the age nineteen?"

O shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know; why don't you have any eyebrows?"

A long silence, then:

"That's not relevant, O."

* * *

**Why do you think L has no eyebrows? Thanks for sticking with me! :)**


	12. Cold Feet

******Suggested by one of my awesome reviewers! **

* * *

**Reason Twelve**

**"Cold Feet"**

O never really understood why; she just accepted it for the sake of not wasting her time. However, the more she paid attention to it, the more irked she ended up being. Why? Why doesn't the man wear anything on his feet? Sure, he wasn't foolish enough to go outside without some sort of footwear, but he doesn't even wear socks! What if rocks had managed to get inside his shoes? So many questions were floating through her head as she laid in her bed. L was still here, still sorting through the things she bought for him. Her eyes flickered to his bare feet. They weren't as unkempt as she'd thought they'd be. The nails weren't nine inches long and he didn't have any calluses of any sort. They were actually...kind of cute. The curly-haired woman stopped staring before she started to develop a fetish for the man's feet. She grabbed a bag from the pile at her feet and pulled out a pair of panda slippers, presenting them to the detective.

"Wear them for me, please?" O asked. L just stared at her, which made her throw the slippers aside and reach for another bag. The next thing she held out was panda socks. "These?"

"I find most footwear uncomfortable," he simply told her, going to throw away an empty box that used to hold graham crackers.

"What's the story on that, anyway?"

"Would you like to guess?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

O jumped out of her bed, then went to her closet. She rummaged through it for a while until she found a large, leather-bound book that was the size of an encyclopedia. It bore the title "O's Theory of Weird: The L Edition" on its cover and she lugged it back on her bed. There were many bookmarks lodged between the pages, identifying certain topics from "Oral Fixation" to "Sock Puppets." The author of the lengthy book turned to the latter. Under the "Sock Puppets" tab, there was a story dedicated to why L has an aversion to wearing things on his feet. It read as followed:

_Once upon a time, there was a strange child named L. His caretaker, Watari, noticed he had trouble socializing with others, so he made some sock puppets. The nameless playthings were given to the quiet child and he played with them as often as he could. He even slept with them. The boy realized that he hadn't named the creatures, deciding to name them Near and Mello. Then one day, out of the blue, the sock puppets were gone. L began to panic for the first time in his life. Where were Near and Mello? Where were his first and only friends? The child left the safety of his room to visit the backyard, where most kids his age went out to play games and have fun. He saw a crowd of children gathered in a half circle around an older girl, who was taller and lankier than he. _

_Her name was Wesley and she was known to bully every child she came across. She was a messy-haired girl who never cut anything that grew, which included her hair and nails. L heard her high-pitched chortle and could tell that whatever she had been doing was nothing good. Swallowing his fear, he approached the crowd, who seemed so entranced by whatever was causing the wicked Wesley joy. She was wiggling her big feet animatedly, speaking in whimsical voices. Once he saw what was on her feet, the child's heart broke in two. _

_She was wearing Near and Mello, whom were pierced through with yellow, overgrown nails. _

_As their mutilation continued, L clutched his head in pain. He could hear their screams, begging to be released from their torture. It was then that the child never wanted to wear socks again, for fear that he'll hear tiny, bloodcurdling screams once more._

"The end," O finalized, appearing to proud of her writing skills. "How was that?"

"Watari will be here shortly to burn that, O."

"Yeah, I figured that you wouldn't take a joke."

* * *

**13: The story on how O met L. Appropriate that it's chapter thirteen, huh? Hope you enjoyed!**


	13. Meet Ugly

**Thanks to WhiteLadyDragon, I've been addicted to this site called TVTropes. It's full of awesome stuff! This chapter titled is based on the trope "Meet Cute," which describes the meeting of two potential lovers to set up their relationship. Usually full of awkwardness, embarrassment, or hostility. One classic meeting can be the two main characters crashing into each other, or one dropping their things so the other can pick their belongings up, etc. Of course, this is L and O we're talking about so...it might not be anything cute about their meeting. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Reason Thirteen**

**"Meet Ugly"**

**Three Years Ago...**

Satomi Kobayashi thought she was doing the people around her a favor by not expressing what was on her mind. So when she was trapped in the corner of an elevator due to the presence of four other people, she kept her thoughts to herself. She'd be perceived as a rude person if she became very vocal about the skinny businessman's horrible-smelling cologne, or the rather buxom lady's hair smacking her in the face. The nineteen-year-old was close to sighing in relief when she reached her destination of the first floor. She just finished her last class of the semester, ready to be free of stress and late-night work days. She was now free to help out with her grandfather's shop. Now, as for what he had done in that shop, no one really knew, except her and another relative. Grandpa Shintaro spent his time in that shop accepting rather odd requests from people, which included (but was not limited to): stalking, pilfering, exorcism, and other tasks that dwindled past the social norm. Since he passed away a little over a year ago, it has been managed by her mother's older brother, Ginjiro Namitani.

Her uncle was a strange man, like his father before him. He shared the same belief as her mother pertaining to one's personal appearance: if you didn't dress yourself for business everyday, you simply didn't care about your future because you don't take life seriously. Satomi felt that he would've been taken as a serious, impeccably-dressed man if he didn't have a brightly-colored feather boa with googly eyes hanging off of him. To be more precise, he actually had a whole _room _full of the dead-eyed, feathery things, and since he was one of those artistic types, he assembled them in a way that covered the entirety of the walls. She wouldn't dare speak this aloud to him, but she casually referred to it as "The Room of Furry Hell" whenever he wasn't around. Once she entered the shop, there was no way to be ignorant of his presence. He wore a navy-blue dress shirt with a red tie. A white suit jacket, slacks, and shoes complimented the outfit, along with his customary neon-green feather boa relaxing on his shoulders. Almond-shaped eyes behind thick-lensed glasses flickered over her briefly, a gesture that was normal to anyone related to her fault-finding mother. The eyes softened, upon realizing who she was.

"Satomi! How are you?" he greeted in a jubilant voice, contrary to his serious appearance (disregarding the boa, of course). The short-haired man held his arms out, much to Satomi's chagrin. It's not like she had an aversion to being touched; she just had a..._thing _about being near her uncle's boas. The googly eyes haunted her nightmares, she wanted to tell him as she accepted his hug. Of course, she could never tell him that.

"Hey, Uncle Gin. I'm fine," she answered, brushing her shoulders free of the awful thing's shed fur.

"That's good. How's Mount Fuji doin'?"

That was Ginjiro's nickname for her mother, Fujiko. While she was an advocate for appearance, his little sister wasn't careful about watching her weight. Naturally, her complaint for her older brother was that he couldn't pull off any look with his twiggy limbs and big head. Satomi was amused by the sibling rivalry, admittedly.

A chuckle slipped out before she said, "She's fine; still acting like she's a beauty queen."

A roll of his eyes, then a scoff. "Typical. Well, you couldn't have come at a better time, dear. I need to head out on a job; something about a cheating husband." He walked to a door near the reception and went inside. When he returned a few moments later, he was dressed in a blonde wig, red dress, and heels. His boa never left its place. "According to the wife, I look like the type he'd go for if I was a woman. What do you think?"

_Why is it that Japanese men look more like the real thing than the women they impersonate? _was the only thing her mind had to comment on, aside from wanting to take her eyes out and throw them in a blender. Horribly mutilating herself wouldn't solve anything, though.

"You look great, Uncle Gin," Satomi said, and she was totally honest...really! She took her post behind the reception desk. "I'll look after the shop while you're gone. Good luck."

She _was _thinking of being more specific, but felt that "good luck with being a whore" would be a bit too over-the-top. Nonetheless, Ginjiro thanked her and went off. The curly-haired girl adjusted her glasses, heaving a sigh. She was alone, now, with nothing but full bookcases and pieces of art to look at. Grandpa Shintaro's shop doubled as a bookstore, for the people who didn't know of its true function. Satomi read as often as she could, and would do a lot of reading now that she had time to. Supernatural love stories were her guilty pleasures, although she often hated the heroines for being so damn desperate. She told herself that she'd never be as suicidal for any man she'd meet, that she'd never have to suffer through such brain pain just to be appreciated-

An old man in a hat and dark clothes was standing silently in front of her, smiling.

_I'm going to die. _A morbid, yet preposterous thought her mind eked out, but her panic wasn't that unreasonable, right? Smiling old men aren't to be trusted, her grandfather had once told her. Of course, when confronted by the inevitable question "then why should I trust you?", he simply laughed and gave the answer, "because I've got candy." The candy hadn't disappointed, either.

Shaking herself from random thoughts of old men and sugary treats, Satomi managed to give a weak smile. "Hello, sir. How may I help you?"

"Are you Shintaro Namitani's granddaughter, Miss Satomi Kobayashi?" the man asked in a strange accent; it didn't sound like he was a native Japanese speaker, but it was perfect enough.

"Yes, sir." _Who wants to know? _she wanted to blurt out, but that wouldn't work well. Besides, disrespecting an elder was like an adult eating all of their kids' Halloween candy: it was something that you should _not _do.

The man takes off his hat, revealing white hair. "My name is Quillish Wammy, and I'll be needing your assistance."

Satomi invited the gentleman to an area of the shop where certain customers were free to negotiate the terms of their business. She listened intently as the older man told his story. She learned that he and her grandfather were the best of friends-brothers, even. Shintaro was the eccentric jack-of-all-trades while Quillish took the role as the quirky inventor. The girl was reminded of that one American cartoon in imagining their adventures. What was it called? _Phineas and Ferb_? Anyway, Quillish started getting nostalgic and went into detail on how their close their relationship was.

"Why, we shared everything together: secrets, money," he listed, adding as an afterthought, "women."

Satomi pretended not to hear that, trying to keep her thoughts to herself as her traitorous mind supplied X-rated images of her grandfather and his friend..._sharing_...a woman. _Way to go, brain, _she mentally quipped.

Quillish continued on, explaining how he got wealthy thanks to the support of her grandfather. He used his said wealth to create the Wammy House, an orphanage for gifted children. It was then that things started to get interesting for Satomi.

"There is a particular child that I've raised named L," he said, eyes losing their former shine. She figured that she would be discouraged, too, if she had a child named after a letter in the American alphabet. "He's especially talented man. He uses his skills of deductive reasoning to solve cases faster than any other detective could."

Satomi had to stop him there. "No offense, Mr. Wammy, but what does this have to do with me?" It was all and good that this L guy was a genius and that he was good at his job, but what, exactly, could she contribute?

"Pardon me for not getting to the point fast enough, Miss Kobayashi," Quillish apologized, truly sincere. "From what I heard from your grandfather, you have no qualms about saying things people _need _to hear, instead of what they _want _to hear, right?"

"...Yeah, I guess," the bespectacled girl replied, reluctant. Just where was this going?

"L is brilliant for his age, and has been praised almost endlessly because of that brilliance."

"And he's starting to get a big head about it?"

Quillish nodded his head. "I would like you to-how should I say this...?"

Satomi crossed her arms over her chest. "You want me to bust his balls before he starts ascending to godhood?"

The older man smiled at her sudden bluntness. "If you want to put it that way, then yes."

Of course, there was a difference between being honest and being a bitch, but hey, Satomi was all for giving reality checks. If someone wanted her to, she'd gladly do so. Little did she know how much L would force out of her Can of Bitch.

Needless to say, she was in for a treat when she left Japan for England.

* * *

Satomi Kobayashi was usually the person you'd borrow a pen from, someone you'd ask to look after your stuff while you were gone. It was safe to say that she was a nice enough person. However, never in all of her nineteen years of life has she ever _wanted _to be a deliberate bitch to someone else before. This L guy was five years older than her. It would only make sense for him to be more mature than her, right? For an older person to show a proper example for those younger than him to follow?

Not this freaking guy.

When they first exchanged greetings, she was impressed that he spoke perfect Japanese like his caretaker. She had figured that the older man was worrying too much about his adoptive son. Sure, he sat funny, and spoke with a tone that implied that he was superior to everyone who wanted to speak to him, but that was about it. There was nothing she could point out that was seemed to be too much of a burden.

Until "The Incident" happened.

Satomi was told by Quillish where she would be staying. It was an unoccupied room upstairs, third door on the right. The wooden floorboards squeaked under her boots as she walked. Upon opening the door, she saw a pale little boy with red hair. He seemed to be about four years old and he carried a plastic cup of play dough in his small hand. He stood by her new bed, where her suitcase was splayed open. The boy must've gotten curious. He was playing with a lacy thing, and she had to suppress her laughter. Usually some girls would be mortified if they saw a boy messing around with their undergarments, but Satomi thought it was cute in a funny way. She decided to intervene when the little boy started to place her bra on his head, running over to him and gently prying it from his (play-dough-covered) hand to put it back in her luggage. The Japanese girl kneeled in front of the boy and put her mediocre English lessons to the test.

"Hello, little boy," she said, smiling up at the blue eyes staring curiously back at her. "My name is Satomi. What's yours?"

"Hi," he shyly answered. "It's Wesley. You sound funny."

_Kids are nothing but cute assholes, _she mused, glancing up when she saw a familiar pair of jeans standing at her doorway. "Hey, L. Is there something wrong?"

"Please, don't mind me. I'll just be here to observe," the mysterious man stated, settling into his strange little crouch in a chair near her bed. Observe? What was there to observe? Shrugging her shoulders, Satomi smiled at the little boy, mussing up his hair. Along with supernatural love stories, cute kids were a close second in her list of guilty pleasures. She opened all of the dressers on the chest of drawers positioned against the wall to the left of her bed so she could start to unpack her clothes. The dancing red dot bouncing around in her peripheral was Wesley, climbing the white and blue mass that was L. There were other kids here in the orphanage who were prone to cling to L like some kind of Orphan King, or something. The black-clad girl was about to dump another load of clothes into the dresser up to the point she heard a pretty loud thump. Her brown eyes jumped to the source of the sound, her legs taking her to the red-haired child who was on the verge of tears. She rushed to him, collecting the boy in her arms and rocking him gently.

"What the hell, L?" was the question of the day, a question she didn't know she would be asking more times than she'd like. "Why didn't you let him sit in your lap?"

"I don't like to deal with children," the genius detective said.

"You were once a child, too, you know!" Satomi fired back, kissing the top of the boy's head. As far as she could tell, she was going to be an awesome mom.

"That's my one and only regret."

"There's a special place in Hell for people like you."

"Really? Have you been there to see?"

Satomi wanted to flip something over, so she decided to flip Wesley. He landed safely on the bed, amused at the girl's newfound hysteria. She stomped over to L, snatching her glasses off so she didn't have to be faced with the magnified effects of his bored-looking, plain, pasty face. She looked him in the eye, poking him with her index finger savagely.

"Listen, you ass," she hissed. "You're going to get off your high horse while I'm here, okay? Mr. Wammy's not going to take any more of your crap, and neither am I, got it?"

She turned around to gather Wesley, whom she heard giggling behind her. L was speechless, it seemed. However, his silence was not due to him not having any words. His black eyes were directed downwards. "Excellent choice in panties, if I may say."

Confused, Satomi put her glasses back on. She _did _feel a draft now that she stopped to cool down. She looked down over her shoulder and blanched. Her panties were in full view, the ones with the strawberries printed all over them. The furiously scowling girl's fury was so strong that it appeared to manifest around her in a dark haze. Wesley began to panic.

"Sorry, Sato-sat-O-mi," he stammered, having trouble with her name.

"It's Sah-toh-me, Wesley. No emphasis on the 'O', and it's not your fault," she corrected, setting the boy down. L begged to differ.

"Actually, the letter 'O' seems to suit you, Miss Kobayashi," he commented.

"And what does it exactly stand for, L?"

He noted that she was eerily calm. "To be honest, I was thinking along the lines of 'Ornery' or 'Oriental'."

"L, you perverted, racist bastard," the newly-christened O cried, jumping forward to do some damage to him.

And that was how O met L...Beautiful, no? No? Okay.

* * *

**Another long one, with the door closed again. You guys should try this if you have trouble writing. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. A huge thank you for those of you who's following and adding this to your favorites. I'll be doing nothing special for Christmas, but I wish you a happy holiday. Hope you get what you want!**


	14. Cruel Sense of Humor

**WARNING: The hilariously unfortunate events of O's bad day may be seen as over-the-top, but (some) are based off of some other people's bad days (I changed a couple details, of course). It's up to you to guess which ones were based on real life. :) Oh, I'm sorry for the four times I used Caps Lock.**

* * *

**Reason Fourteen**

**"Cruel Sense of Humor"**

The bedsprings creaked in a repetitive manner. A sound of frustration was accompanied with the staccato rhythm, signaling that the person was on the bed wasn't enjoying herself. An irritated sigh, from another person, added to the silence of the room.

"O?"

"Yeah?"

The creaking stopped for a moment, and so did the grunting.

"Could you please stop jumping on the bed?"

L's request was immediately ignored, seeing as the woman in the bathrobe continued her aggressive bouncing. This was O's way of coping with the aftereffects of a bad day. Everyone had bad days, she knew, and she had to pick herself up and keep moving. Even though it could be seen as childish, she found that this method gave her that strength to keep moving-whatever strength you could get from actively trying to bang your head on the ceiling. Self-harm aside, O was adamant that no amount of bouncing could assist her into ever forgetting that unbelievable string of unfortunate events. Much to L's relief, the curly-haired bed-jumper stopped her assault of the mattress and landed on her back...onto her other pair of glasses. She barked out a harsh (and somewhat maniacal) laugh when she saw that one of lenses had a crack in it, and tossed the glasses in the waste basket near her bed. Because the Big Guy Upstairs loved pissing on her, she missed the shot. Silly of her to think that today's rotten luck would've run out by now!

"Do you feel better?" L innocently asked, looking away from the screen of O's laptop. Apparently, it, too, had been affected by her bad luck, since she had to call him in her room to fix it. The emotionally exhausted O responded with a weak grunt as she climbed out of bed to pull up a chair next to her boyfriend. She rested her head on his shoulder, which spoke volumes on how crushed she was by the events of her day. Curious by nature, he wondered, "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Believe it or not, it starts with computers and ends with Watari, well, you'll see..."

* * *

When she wasn't hovering over L (or vice-versa), O would go over to her Uncle Ginjiro's shop. She visited him just to talk or assist him with some things, like learning about the functions of certain pieces of technology. Almost every adult had the impression that their younger relatives were some sort of tech geniuses when it came to them completing seemingly genius-level tasks like creating a website or social networking page. Once Ginjiro asked his niece to help him understand the workings of his two new laptops, he had wanted her to do it all: upload pictures, set up his printer, and make a website for the store. She ended up sealing her fate when he found out about _Google_, spending almost two hours looking at pictures of various feather boas. O didn't dare to tell him that there were sites out there in which he could purchase them online; he'd definitely explode from all of the excitement, the way he was acting. So instead of showing him the wonder that was _eBay_, the bespectacled girl decided to show him how the webcam on the second laptop (which he'd left at home, in his bedroom) could be activated from his other laptop.

"My niece is a genius!" Ginjiro had cried, eyes wide as he observed the interior of his bedroom through the window that had opened on the screen. O was busy fiddling with her phone when her uncle bellowed his wife's name. Wanting to find out what the problem was, she peered over his shoulder and almost lost her breakfast once she laid eyes on the unsavory scene.

It was her aunt, dressed in a full-body latex suit, domineering over a naked younger man who-obviously-wasn't her uncle.

O dared to rate Ginjiro's stint in cross-dressing a better sight than this, shuddering violently when the fifty-something-year-old dominatrix began "punishing" the stranger. Her husband slammed the laptop closed angrily, his face red and scrunched up in a rage that was unfamiliar to his niece. It was safe to assume that she was free to go. As much as she loved her uncle, she didn't want to be a part of his drama. She thought that it wouldn't be a good plan to be witness to the utter destruction of a fourteen-year-old marriage, so she began to leave the shop.

That is, until Ginjiro calmly grabbed her wrist and hauled her to his car.

"Uncle Gin, why am I going with you?" she questioned bluntly while she sat in the passenger's seat.

"You're going to make sure I don't do anything drastic," Ginjiro responded, hard to be taken any kinds of serious when he dramatically threw his neon-green boa with plastic eyes over his shoulder. The ride to his place didn't take too long because of the maniac her uncle had become under the influence of overpowering wrath. She struggled to keep up with him as he left the car and stormed up the stone pathway to the door. After fighting his keys with his shaky hands, he managed to get the door open and wasted no time in stomping his way up the stairs. Sighing, O closed and locked the door behind her, then headed to the kitchen. She raided the refrigerator, and settled down in a chair to eat a sandwich she quickly put together. While she was moving on to getting something to drink, she heard the ruckus upstairs escalate to a shouting match.

"MINAKO, IF YOU WANTED TO BE A DOMINATRIX, AT LEAST WEAR SOMETHING THAT FLATTERS YOUR FIGURE! YOU JUST LOOK LIKE AN APPLE MADE OF LATEX!"

"THIS COMING FROM A MAN WHO HAPPENS TO WEAR A FURRY SNAKE AROUND HIS NECK EVERYDAY!"

"I JUST WANTED TO EXPERIMENT WITH AN OLDER WOMAN!"

"SATOMI! Get up here before I shank these bastards!"

_So much for not doing anything drastic, _she wryly thought, setting down her orange juice. She left the kitchen then went upstairs to expose her ears to the wonderful war of words raging in her uncle and aunt's bedroom. Pained grunts and shouts became more audible as she traveled the length of the hallway that led to the room. If she wasn't aware of what gear her aunt had been dressed in, she would've denied the fact that she heard the crack of a whip snap in the air (or someone's skin). O gripped the doorknob, really hoping that no one had killed each other, yet.

She was quick to regret opening the door, though, as an obscene object made very good friends with her face. It dropped on her boots, in its pink, phallic glory. She glared at everyone in the room, hoping that her glasses were giving off that Evil Eyeglasses Glint-common in those cartoons she watched that L tried in vain to deprive her of-that indicated that she was highly pissed. Sure, she would have a story to tell when she got home, but getting hit in the face with a _dildo _was certainly not worth it.

O left the house, calling the authorities before she started to walk back to the shop. It was near the vicinity of the hotel, and if she grew tired of walking, she'd have to bother Watari. She would call a cab, but L had this theory that seventy-five percent of girls like her get kidnapped on their first cab ride. At first, she had wanted to question what he meant by "girls like her", but went against it. Something wet fell on her cheek, and she cursed L. It always happened to rain when she thought of him, and it was suitable since L might have stood for "Liability." Then again, her alias might as well stood for "Omen."

Scolding herself for having such a traitorous mind, the young woman started to jog onto the crosswalk while it was safe to cross. Unfortunately, a puddle had formed with the pouring rain and her boot slid right in it. Fan-freakin'-tastic. However, that wasn't the bad part. As she fell, O's hand frantically searched for something to grab so she could pull herself up. Luckily, she latched onto something. Unluckily, it happened to be a guy's crotch. She was supporting herself with a guy's junk, to sum it up. So many levels of wrong and sick-wrosick?-with that sentence.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" O worried, picking up the red umbrella the poor guy had dropped while nursing his rather sensitive injury. "I didn't mean to do that."

He seemed a bit peeved as he managed to work a "y-yes, I'm fine" through his teeth. His tear-filled eyes met his unintentional assaulter's round face, and softened. Poor Guy took back his umbrella, and tried to smile. "It's fine. Accidents happen, right?"

"Y-Yeah, glad you understand. Look, I have to go; hope that gets better!" she shouted over the rain, careful as she stalked away from him.

Bad choice of words considering future events.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, O stopped her brooding once she received a message on her phone. It was from her brother, sent an hour ago. Hoping that his usual optimism could help perk up her horrid mood, she opened it. It read:

_**i'm comin over, sexy. Hope u have on that skirt i like :)**_

"Oh, God, why?" the drenched female almost sobbed. She really, _really _hoped that Saito didn't suddenly develop a curiosity for incestuous relationships. Her bad luck today surely couldn't take _that _much of a shocking swerve, could it? "M-Maybe he got the wrong number! Yeah, that's definitely it. Wouldn't be the first time."

After reassuring herself that her sweet little brother just made an innocent mistake, O went ahead and called him. Three rings passed, he picked up. She didn't even wait for him to talk and said, "You know you're real stupid, right?"

An insulted huff, then, in a marshmallow-soft voice that did _not _belong to her brother, "_Excuse _me?"

"Um, I'm sorry, who is this, and where's Saito?" O stammered, face lit aflame with embarrassment.

"Sayu Yagami," the girl replied, the foul tone in her voice not budging. "He's in the bathroom right now. Who is this?"

Great, she called the genius boy's little sister stupid, but he didn't have to know. "Hi, I'm Satomi. Saito's big sister? I-l guess I'll hang up now. Sorry, Sayu."

_Phew, almost screwed up _another _relationship with technology. _

O sighed, putting her phone away. Suddenly, going into the shop to tidy up took a backseat. Her clothes were getting heavy from all the rain water they've been absorbing, her hair looked like curly black rods of pasta, and everything else sucked. She needed to go home and quick. Before she could do that, she heard a child's joyful cheers not too far from her. She smiled at the sight of the little girl splashing around in a puddle near the crosswalk, her inattentive mother standing at a distance. She was glad that _someone _was having an awesome day...until the sound of a car speeding down the road ruined that. About to abandon her post underneath a parasol she got from inside the shop, O was close to removing the girl from danger, but was interrupted by someone with dark clothes and a red umbrella.

Poor Guy had saved the girl.

He returned her to her mother, who had slapped the young man for supposedly "manhandling" the small child. Poor Guy took the punishment in stride with the grace of someone who had experienced greater pain in the last couple of minutes, then moved on to where O was.

"What a bitch," O remarked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Manhandling or not, you would think that she would appreciate that her child's alive. People these days, huh?"

P.G. smiled gently, running a hand through his dark, shoulder-length hair. "Nothing a little bit of deleting won't fix."

"What?"

"I said, 'nothing a little bit of deleting won't fix,' now...would you like to get out of the rain?"

"...Uh, sure, what the hell? My day can't get any worse."

He invited her under his umbrella, and the two walked together to his place. On the way there, O was just starting to be wary of the chivalrous gentleman. She wasn't actually dumb enough to believe this guy had honest intentions; L would be ashamed if she did. She didn't want to act suspicious and trigger any psychotic tendencies she was sure P.G. had. The guy had no respect for personal space. He hung around a little too close, holding onto her shoulder, touching her face...and this was _after _she told him she was spoken for. She just had to draw the line when the creep's hand brushed against her rear end. Of course, "draw the line" translated into "kick him in the crotch, then beat the hell of him with his umbrella."

"After you treated them so _gently_," P.G. groaned into the rain-soaked pavement, salivating like a dog while clutching his groin.

O ran for her life, idly thinking that this was the most exercise she's gotten since...well, ever. Too bad that it took a life-threatening stalker to get her active. She blanched once she realized that the guy was running after her, screaming something about control, alt, delete, whatever _that _meant.

She managed to hoof it to a public bathroom in a clothing boutique, drawing attention from other shoppers who thought it strange to see a girl in soaking wet clothes run like hell was on her heels. The exhausted female went inside a stall and locked the door, calling Watari to inform him of the situation; he was way more reliable than the police, in her opinion. He told her to stay put until he activated the light in the jewel of her necklace. She jumped when she heard the bathroom door open, relieved that it was only a woman in heels, who chose the stall next to hers.

What happened next appalled O.

Woman-in-Heels started _talking _to her, her voice accompanied with the sound of explosive diarrhea. "How did that go?" one might ask. Well, it went exactly like this.

"Oh, what a day! How's yours going?"

_FRAAAAAP!_

"Getting worse."

"Sorry to hear that." _FRAAAP! _"It'll get better, though."

"Why do I"-_FRAAAAAAAAP!_-"doubt that?"

The conversation continued like that for thirty minutes and O was grateful that she would be getting the hell out of there to run for her life. Anything to escape. Thankfully, Watari called to inform her that he's made it to her destination, but she'll have to travel across the street. P.G. was sure to be sitting outside, waiting. Bidding a farewell to Woman-in-Heels by throwing her an extra roll of toilet paper in her stall, O left the bathroom and crept behind a rack of clothes to keep a lookout on her stalker's whereabouts. He was easy to spot, seeing that there were a lot of fawning girls surrounding him. They were attracted to his gorgeous looks as if they had their own gravitational pull. Thankful for the distraction, O gracefully skipped past and dashed towards the crosswalk.

Of course, when you're crazy, you have heightened senses that allow you to be hyper alert to the location of your one true love.

P.G. was no exception to that rule. He moved to catch up with his hard-to-get target, but was blocked by the swarm of fangirls. So he took out the only weapon he had on him-which was a fountain pen-and swung it around with the finesse of a mad swordsman. The doting females backed off, and he chased his ever elusive other half. Why couldn't she see that they were meant to be? He would be ignoring the first rule of romance if he let her go! With a meeting as adorable as theirs, they were bound to be together! Plus, they both had glasses. Surely that cemented their union!

Sadly, his dreams of romance were ruined when an old man blew a tranquilizer dart into his neck.

* * *

"And that's why I need your help, L," O said, glad to be in the present.

"I don't see how I can help, but what do you have in mind?" the detective asked, trying to distract himself from the smell of his girlfriend's shampoo. She smelled really edible right now, and he didn't want to make the mistake of gnawing on her hair. It happened once before, but he was sure that it wouldn't happen again.

O buried her face on his shoulder, grabbing his arm. She didn't usually rub herself against him that much unless she was making demands of him. "Well...a good laugh usually cheers me up."

A long pause, then: "I'm not a comedian, O."

"You don't have to be a comedian to make me laugh," she assured him, patting his arm once she recalled something she thought was funny. "Oh, remember that time you tried to teach me capoeira?"

"You didn't do so well," L remembered.

"If you call splitting my pants and breaking my bra clasp not doing so well, then yeah. But doesn't that make you laugh?"

O stared flatly at L's lips, not quite computing when they remained unaffected by amusement. "That was just embarrassing, in my opinion."

The curly-haired woman chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, my life happens to be a string of embarrassing events, but nothing happened recently-aside from the obvious-so things might be looking up."

Waiting for the man to shatter her optimism, she braced for impact. She was shocked that he had no remark or rebuttal that would ruin her chance at recovery. Examining him closely, she saw him smile so noticeably that her heart skipped a beat.

"L, that was a really cute smile." Though her admittance was dripping with suspicion, she playfully poked him in face with her index finger. "What're you up to?"

"There was a particular performance that I must admit I had enjoyed giving while getting Matsuda out of a mess," he informed, looking into O's eager eyes. "Would you like to hear?"

"Of course!"

It was tough for him to revisit this type of act, but he could do this for O, at least. Even if it _did _feel like his IQ was falling dramatically while doing so. So he fell into the role of Matsuda's drinking buddy, Asahi. He didn't think that O would find it amusing, but there was no harm in trying. He watched her closely, even as he wildly exaggerated the events of how she acted when she was sick (without making it obvious that it was _her _he was talking about, needless to say).

Once he was done retelling the story in that ridiculous voice, her cheeks were rosy and her shoulders shook tremendously prior to her falling out of her chair. She spent three minutes laughing 'til she cried and complained of stomach pains when she was finished. She climbed into her chair, wiping her tears.

"And you thought you weren't a comedian!" she exclaimed, holding onto his shoulder. "L, that was really funny! And to top it off with th-that _dopey _voice..." She hugged him with all her strength and kissed the side of his temple. "Thanks. That really made me feel better."

"It's probably best that you don't thank me," he replied, done with repairing O's laptop.

The woman shrugged, thinking that his response was simply L being L. She went to her bed, getting comfortable while her brain fought the urge to fall into unconsciousness. She was just about to close her eyes when she thought of an interesting question.

"There's one thing bothering me, though," she spoke aloud, laying her head on her folded arms. L remained silent. "Why did your drinking buddy sound a lot like Matsuda? And it might be a coincidence that the girl in the story was sick like-

"That happened to _me, _didn't it?"

L was careful and Asahi wasn't, so he admitted to his blunder. _The downfalls of being a good actor, _he thought before saying,"If that's your interpretation."

As much shame one could feel about laughing at oneself without knowing, O managed to speak around it. "That's not _funny_, L."

"You were laughing about it a few moments ago, so I'd say that it was," he finalized, adding "dude" as an afterthought.

* * *

**Yes, I know Mikami wasn't a problem 'til after L passed, but I wanted to include him somehow. Wow, another long chapter. I feel accomplished! I don't know about you, but I found it hilarious when L was Asahi. So which events in O's bad day (which is a compilation of others') do you think happened to people in real life?**

** Next chapter: O and Light have a conversation about their respective others. Hope you enjoyed!**


	15. Overly Intrusive

**Thanks for reviewing, and sorry it's shorter than the last. Couldn't really pull much out of this one.**

***Mixi is the Japanese equivalent to Facebook and it's used mostly on cellphones.**

* * *

**Reason Fifteen**

**"Overly Intrusive"**

"O, can I talk to you for a moment?"

O glanced up from her pillow, directing her eyes at the door then the alarm clock to her right. It was only fifteen minutes after eight, so whoever was interrupting her sleep was lucky. She snapped on the lamp, put on her glasses, and got out of bed to dress herself in more presentable clothes. After putting her bathrobe away, she opened the door to see Light. Panic immediately set in, and she was thankful that L christened her with a ridiculous alias. Because if Light was Kira, and knew her real name, she'd be screwed. Not because he'll insta-kill her with whatever power he possessed. No, it's because she had insulted his little sister, Sayu, earlier today. She didn't know what type of brother Light was, but she was sure that he seemed to be the type to "strangle now, ask questions never." Knowing that she was causing suspicion with her stunned silence, O tore her gaze from Light's chest and looked up into his eyes. A brave move, considering that she was entertaining the thought of him being a supernatural serial killer.

"Is this a good time?" he asked, frowning slightly. His eyes were filled with some troubling emotion as he turned away, his hand combing through the hair on the back of his head. "I don't want to bother you."

"No, Light," O said, finally finding the courage to speak. She stepped aside, inviting the taller man in her room. "Come on in."

She remained by the door as she gestured for him to sit on her bed. Not to be a courteous host, but to keep him in her sight. She didn't know if adopting more of L's habits was good or bad, in this case. Nonetheless, she would try and act as if she had the expertise of a genius detective like L while hanging out with his former number one suspect. So, to start, O took the chair from her desk, placed it near the door, and tried to sit in her boyfriend's bizarre crouch. She twisted and turned in her seat, swaying to and fro until she somersaulted out of the seat. Having gone through worse in the company of others, she quickly shook off her creeping embarrassment and settled with a normal, straight-backed posture as she returned to her seat. To say the least, Light appeared to be a bit surprised at her actions, judging by his wide-eyed stare.

"What?" the messy-haired woman almost spat, fixing her shirt. "Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn't want to try that at _least _once."

Wrestling through his dumbfounded silence, Light managed to reply. "Even though I am curious as to how Ryuzaki thinks, I haven't gone _that _far."

"Figures. Wouldn't want Mr. Perfect to curve his perfect spine," O said, trying to joke with the young man, but ended up sounding more vindictive than light-hearted...nonsensical pun intended.

When she didn't hear a word from him, O was starting to feel guilty. Sure, she might've once thought that Light was a douchebag (that hairstyle and that distanced look he gets-as if even his own _thoughts _were more superior than you-was proof enough), but she didn't mean for that to channel into her voice. Everything about the guy was bound to make anyone jealous. Hell, she was pretty sure the reason for L quite literally shackling the guy to him was so that the latter could make up for the skills that the former lacked - in his case, all of the social ones. She wouldn't trade L for the world, of course, but her mind often thought otherwise. She had once wondered what L would be like with Light's personality and admonished herself for actually dreaming about the outcome. Blame her for being human, but she was envious of Light. He was a good guy, had a great mind, beautiful girlfriend, and could put up with L without halfway losing his mind everytime he was in his presence. Hell, she might as well admit it: if Light was a girl and wasn't in a steady relationship, O wouldn't have a tough time forfeiting L over to him.

"Actually," Light said, and O was grateful for the distraction (she was starting to imagine what cup-size he would be), "things aren't as 'perfect' as you think, O."

"What, you actually have back problems or something?" she chimed playfully, leaning forward in her seat.

"Things between Misa and I have been strained lately."

Inside the depths of her heart, a horrid little imp danced in delight.

"There's actually trouble between you two?" O questioned, eyebrows raised. A smile-a sad, almost lifeless thing-crossed his face. After she left her seat and sat next to the troubled boyfriend on her bed, she lowered her voice. It sounded apologetic as she spoke again. "What happened?"

Light sighed, as if he was about to share something particularly embarrassing. O, the suppressed sadist she was when it came to others' relationship problems, listened once he came around to discussing his own issue.

"Misa's been...giving me the silent treatment," he admitted, glancing down at his hands. The person he was supposed to seeking advice from gave an encouraging nod, waiting for him to continue. "It's not common for her to not talk to me in so long, so I asked why she hadn't been talking to me. She said I cheated on her."

"Did you?"

"Apparently, I did...in her dreams."

"That was it?" O wanted to ask, but decided against voicing her thoughts. She's seen Misa around a couple of times, and she seemed to be a nice enough girl. She didn't strike her as a childish girl who would get hung up on something her boyfriend did in a dream and punish him for it in reality. That was just...crazy. She didn't want go too far and call the gal stupid because that wouldn't be fair. This coming from the woman who'd just leaped for joy at hearing that there was trouble in someone's relationship. Wanting to console Light, O patted his shoulder and decided to pull a somewhat similar situation out of her own experience.

"A couple years back, I had taken out my brother for his fourteenth birthday," she started, shaking her head at the memory. "Everything went great and we had a lot of fun. When we got home, Saito went on his phone to check his Mixi and would not talk to me. When I confronted him about it, he said he was mad I hadn't sent him a 'happy birthday' message."

"You never told me that story," a disembodied voice informed.

"Ryuzaki?" Light guessed, looking at the laptop on O's desk. A device located on the top of the screen blinked bright red for a second before going dull. "Have you been eavesdropping?"

"Why am I _not _surprised?" O quipped, marching over to her laptop. "I can't even trust you to fix my laptop without you bugging it, you peeping panda!"

"How very adult of you, O. I thought that you'd break out of name-calling," L's voice chastised. "For the benefit of your knowledge, it's not exactly peeping if the other person is aware. You know my habits, and therefore, had known of my tampering, so no harm was done."

O grabbed Light by the shoulders. "Would you _please _turn into a girl?"

It would be an understatement to say that Light was very confused.

* * *

**Next chapter's topic: I'm torn between L as a father and how he would act during O's birthday. Which sounds more appealing to you?**

**What I've learned about O in this chapter:**

**~She would ship L and Light together to avoid her insanity.**

**~She gets a little bit happy inside whenever she hears about other people's relationship problems. **

**~She thought Light was a douchebag. XD**


	16. Not A Good Father pt1

**Sorry for the wait. If there's ever a long pause like that, that means I'm caught up in school work or I'm at war with Writer's Block. It was due to a combination of the latter and former.**

* * *

**Reason Sixteen**

**"Not a Good Father"**

"Stop slouching like that! You're not a child!" scolded Mrs. Kobayashi-Lawliet, swatting the hunched figure to her with her purse. She wasn't talking to one of her twins, either. They were sitting down to her left, dressed in their casual clothes. Her husband was being finicky about his posture again, and it would be a miracle if she managed to convince him to sit normally. Hell, it was an arduous task trying to get the man into some presentable clothes for the Parent-Teacher Conference. She had to bargain with him once she heard that their attendance was needed. "Wear the suit, or no sweets," was the ultimatum she'd given him. It was only natural that he insist upon having his sugar since he claimed to practically run on it. Still, she thought it was ridiculous that she had to appeal to his child-like eating habits more than her own children's (who, thankfully, hadn't developed an intense sweet tooth) to get him to bend to her will.

Satomi almost gnashed her teeth through her tongue when she saw that her request was ignored. Her stubborn husband still didn't remove himself from his crouch. Their daughter, Ellen, giggled at the enraged expression her mother sported while her brother, Sato, glanced up and passively stared at the scene for a second before getting sucked back into his reading. He was particularly fond of the fiction series, having read it four times already. He was to the point where he was past immersion, which was why he was carrying around a wooden stick and claiming he was "The Boy Who Lived."

"It's not very attractive of you to nag, O," L commented after much pestering on his wife's part. He slid out of his strange pose, not bothering to fix the creases in his brown suit jacket. Satomi did, however, huffing irritably as she did. She fretted over his appearance more than her own. It was as if she was made to nanny L, the way she groomed that wild mane he called hair and corrected his "bad" behavior. It was no wonder why the twins often treated their father like their cool older brother.

"Obviously, I was attractive enough for you to marry me and have kids with," the nanny shot back, almost smug. "And stop with that! You're not on a case!"

L brought his thumb to his mouth, another habit that his wife detested to no end. Just as she was about to swat him, Ellen beat her to the punch. Her big eyes were defiant as she looked up at her father, mitten-clad hands holding one of his.

"No, Dad. You're way too old for oral fixations," the eleven-year-old assessed and one could practically feel the pride radiating from her mother...until she started examining her own faults. The curly-haired girl crossed her arms over her chest as she faced the older female. "Mom, you're too young to be a grandma, so stop acting like one! Let Dad sit the way he wants. It's bad enough that you made him wear socks, too."

Satomi blankly stared at her daughter. "Shut up," she deadpanned. She cursed her DNA for being so prominent in the girl. She took a peek at her watch. They've been sitting outside this classroom for fifteen minutes and forty-three seconds too long. "Just what is happening in there?" she wondered, standing up from her chair to take a look through the small window in the door. Who she saw inside disturbed her so much that Sato sensed the drastic change in her mood. The boy closed his book after placing a bookmark in it.

"Mom, it's just Mr. Mikami," he said, in what was supposed to be an attempt to assure his slowly unraveling mother. He took her hand, squeezing gently. "Oh yeah, I forgot about your fear of guys with the same glasses as you. It's okay; I'll be your support. He's scary at first, but you'll like him...I think."

She had learned the name of her stalker once, but buried it in the back of her mind. What was he doing here in America? Did he even remember her? Now that she was confronted with him, her panic level shot up faster than L's monster metabolism. Before she could even turn tail, the door opened and a family of three came out. The parents were talking about how nice the teacher was, even though it was weird how much correction fluid was used on the keyboards to cover up the word "delete."

"Good evening," the Computer Science teacher greeted. "Sorry for the wait; it took me a while for me to get some files for a student." He put out his hand to Satomi, not seeming to notice her pale expression. "I'm Teru Mikami, nice to meet you..."

"Heh-heh-heh, excuse us for a moment," Satomi nervously tittered, pulling L aside. Sato followed his sister into the classroom, while Ellen fluttered her eyelashes at her teacher, who smiled awkwardly. This frightened her mother even more. "You know who that is, right?"

"Conan and Sherlock's teacher," he answered with a straight face.

"Really, L? You gave our kids-" she started, but decided against starting another pointless arguments. She'll get to him on that at a later time. "Never mind. The point is you had to be aware that my _stalker_ is teaching our kids, so why didn't you tell me?"

"At the time, my attention was compromised by the lack of sugar...which _you _imposed on me, by the way."

Satomi sighed. "Listen, dear. The only thing that's going to be compromised is our daughter's innocence if we don't do something about this."

After much thought, L nodded his head. "What do you propose we do?"

"L, it's time to bring back Asahi."

* * *

**Well, I decided to make this a two-parter because I love the idea of these two as parents...even if one of them's not so good at parenting. So I know I haven't gotten in much detail about Ellen and Sato, but what do you think of them? And what do you think Asahi's going to do to thwart ol' Poor Guy Mikami? XD Thanks for sticking with me! **


	17. Not A Good Husband pt2

**Reason Seventeen**

**"Not a Good Husband"**

"Hey, Ellie?"

"What, Sato?"

"Don't you think that Dad's acting a bit strange?"

In the corner farthest away from the trio of conversing adults, Ellen and Sato talked amongst themselves. They discussed various things: their grades, how uncomfortable they were in their dress clothes, and also, how many years it would take until their mother gives in to insanity permanently. The current topic was their father, brought on by Sato's keen eye for detail. His sister stopped doodling on her mittens, her big eyes set on her father's back then settling onto her brother's face.

"Dad's _always _strange," Ellen answered simply, shrugging her shoulders. The movement ruffled her white blouse, which was hanging off her thin frame. She didn't bother to fix it, though; Mr. Mikami was sure to notice how supple her shoulders were. "I hope that he doesn't embarrass us!"

Sato glanced up from his book, rolling his eyes. "Aren't you used to embarrassment by now? We _are _L's kids, you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The bookworm pursed his lips in thought, then cupped the left side of his face with his hand. "I don't know. Mom always says that, though."

Ellen crossed her arms over her chest. "You're such a mama's boy! Mom's not that great."

The eleven-year-old boy fixed his sister with a flat stare. It might have been true that he favored his mother more than his father. Excuse him if he wasn't bribed by his father's constant gifts of junk food and the latest technology. His mother, if not a bit strict and critical, tried her best not to have them exposed to too much embarrassment.

"Ellie," Sato began, "remember that Mom fought so hard for us to not have ridiculous names." He set his book down on the desk he sat at. He picked up his "wand" and pointed it at himself. "I was almost named P." The wand then aims at his sister. "You were almost named Q."

Ellie scoffed. "Okay, so Dad wasn't the best at naming. So-"

"There you go, defending him again! Don't tell me you forgot about the time he ate our birthday cake."

"He got us another one!"

"He even stole candy from a baby, Ellen!" Sato hissed, setting his palm firmly onto the desk. He leaned over, moving out of his seat until he was face to face with twin. "And that baby was me, Ellen. That baby...was me." Upon completing his rant, the boy calmed his nerves and cleared his throat. He opened his book back up, eyes searching for the place where he last left off.

Ellen sighed, shaking her head at her brother's passionate debate. "Anyway, what do you mean by Dad acting strange?"

"He's not slouching, and not because of Mom," he replied without looking up. "Just look at how he's sitting."

Ellen did as told, frowning when she noticed her father sitting oddly. Well, oddly for a man of his idiosyncrasies. He sat at Mr. Mikami's desk, hands in his pockets and one leg crossed over the other. Her mother didn't seemed bothered by the change in posture, though.

Satomi chimed, "Sorry about that, Mr. Mikami; we weren't sure that we had the right class."

"No need for an apology, Ms. Satomi," forgave the teacher, giving a bright smile as he shook her hand. He extended his hand to her husband once he was done. The man looked at his hand like it was some sort of foreign object, but reached in to grab it with an iron grip. Despite the pain, Mikami grinned. "Nice to meet you, as well, Mr. Asahi."

"So you're the one that Ellen won't stop talking about," "Asahi" mused aloud, then a cheesy smile broke across his face. "Want to go drinking sometime?"

"I don't drink, sir," the grinning man gently informed. He then pulled out a vanilla folder from the file cabinet behind him. "On the subject on your children's behavior in class, I have something to comment on." He stops talking when Asahi abruptly leaned forward. His wife gave a tense smile. "Well...Sato, even though he pays attention in class, his lack of participation is really hurting his grade. Ellen, on the other hand, is doing fine. However, she knits in my class. "

"Well, my Ellie was always the artistic one," Asahi commented, eagerly yanking his cellphone out of his pocket. He pushed a couple buttons, then turned the screen so Mikami could see the picture he pulled up. It was Ellen in her diapers, wearing a cute, frilly dress. The dress was covered in chocolate, which she had used as a medium to draw little figures (that were supposed to be animals) on the kitchen table. "Isn't she just adorable?"

"Yes, she is, sir," Mikami was about to agree, but he couldn't get out two words. Why? Because the subject of the picture-much older, of course-showed up behind her father, visibly upset. Her cheeks were an aggressive red, chest heaving. She reached around her father to grab his phone.

"I thought you _deleted _this!" she shrieked, throwing the phone down on the floor. "I hate you, Dad!"

As Ellen ran out of the classroom, Sato running after (probably to brag), something cracked in Mikami. He wasn't quite sure what it was, exactly, but it was slowly crumbling apart.

"Ellen!" cried Satomi, starting to go after her daughter. She was halfway out of her seat when her husband pat her on the back...with the strength of a sledgehammer. She vaulted over Mikami's desk, arms straight ahead of her like she was swimming. There was a problem with that position, though. In automatic reflex, her hand grabbed something to support herself with. In a cruel twist of fate, it was Mikami's crotch. Whatever was cracking in the teacher, completely cracked by now and unleashed something Satomi wasn't looking forward to.

"This hand," he mused aloud, shivering in what seemed to be in pleasure. "I remember this hand..." He smiled, this smile a bit more wicked than the ones he has been giving previously. "Hello, Satomi."

"Aw, dammit!" Satomi exclaimed, pushing herself off of the madman's desk. She continued backing away as her stalker stepped towards her. "I knew we should've brought Watari."

"Did you miss me, Satomi?" the menacing man asked, pulling the frowning woman into his arms. He wiped away the bangs from her forehead, then kissed it. "I've missed you and our kids."

"Ellen and Sato aren't your kids!"

"Ellen and Sato? Is that what _he _made you think Control and Delete's names were?" Mikami glared at L, who was activating the camera function in his phone. He paid the man no mind. He was probably awestruck at how good he and his darling wife looked together. "I know that this man has you brainwashed, but just how much of you is gone?"

"None, you extra-special bastard!" retorted Satomi, glancing over at L. She would have let her mouth hang open to express her surprise, but she was afraid that Mikami the Menace would try to stick his tongue down her throat. Her husband, ever the expert at lacking the responsibilities of one, was sitting there with his phone, recording the whole scene. Before opening her mouth to lecture the detective-turned-cinematographer, she thought carefully. Their whole goal was to get rid of the guy so that he wouldn't be fixated on their daughter. He was gathering evidence against the delusional man, so that he could be fired and put behind bars. It wouldn't make sense to be angry _now_, of all times. Later, yes. _Hell_, yes. For now, she would calm down until he got what he needed.

"_Crucio_!"

Or not.

Sato stood in the doorway with Ellen, triumphantly pointing that stick he carried around at his mother's assailant. He scowled at the stick in his hand, examining it as if it failed to execute its original purpose.

"You didn't actually think that that was going to work, right?" her sister criticized, rolling her eyes.

"You were supposed to be in pain right now," he told Mikami, "but I guess this will have to do!"

He ran over to his teacher and kicked him in the shin. The man went down on one knee, clutching the other one while groaning loudly. L decided that now was the perfect time to act, putting the phone away and ended his consciousness with a kick that showed he wasn't rusty in his capoeira.

"Sato, from now on, it would be best if you learned some martial arts," he said to his son, returning his leg to the ground.

"No offense, Dad, but I don't want to make Mom even more mad at you," the boy declined, throwing away his wand. "Though I might want to give up on being a wizard. Being the Boy-Who-Lived really doesn't cut it." He grabbed a book from the satchel he wore, presenting it to both of his parents. His father let a small grin cross his face; his mother looked like Death. "I think I might be a detective, like Sherlock Holmes."

"No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no, NO!" cried Satomi, taking the book and slamming it on Mikami's still body. "Become a wizard, Sato. Live out your dreams!"

The Kobayashi-Lawliet family-

* * *

"Wesley, what are you doing on my computer?"

O confronted the seven-year-old sitting at her work desk. He was recently employed by L for some unknown reason and was staying in her room. The redhead laid his blue eyes on the older woman pestering him. He appeared to be peeved at being interrupted, wanting to get back at writing his fiftieth piece of fanfiction. He had already made several stories-masterpieces, really-concerning everyone back at Wammy's House. Among those, he noticed he didn't make anything with L. So why not work off of something that was already there? He's been researching them for a while now, collecting certain pieces of information from various cameras he put in the area.

"Aunt O, I would appreciate it if you didn't talk. You're throwing off my creative flow," Wesley commented. O refused to acknowledge to urge to commit violence against the child and approached the boy, peering around his shoulder. The title _The Unfortunate Times of the Kobayashi-Lawliet Family _popped out at her, and her eyes went wide. She skimmed over a couple of paragraphs, mouth gaping even lower as she continued to read.

And that was the first time that O realized that her and L's relationship was doomed, even in fiction.

* * *

**Poor O. Well, I wonder what's next for them this time? What's your guess? Thanks for reading and adding to your favorites! It really means a lot!**


	18. Dictator

**Reason Eighteen**

**"Dictator"**

"Watari, I think I'm at the end of my rope," O said to the old man, who stood behind the kitchen counter. He was in the middle preparing himself a small meal when the exasperated woman invited herself into his quarters. He'd figured that he might as well make her a decent lunch since he was up. Her presence here must mean that she wanted to talk to him about L, and it wasn't like he was opposed to listening. It was just that the more she went on about how terrible his social skills and odd mannerisms were, the more he was inclined to scream his own criticisms into her ears. Unfortunately, he would have to restrain himself. He nodded his head silently as O continued to give her opinion on L's lack of eyebrows.

"I mean, did he shave 'em off so people would never know what he's thinking or something?" she grumbled, managing a "thank you" when Watari placed a bowl of fruit in front of her.

"I don't think L's eyebrows grant telepathy, O." He sat down across from her, cutlery already working at the vegetables on his plate. "That is, if they existed."

Popping a large slice of pineapple in her mouth, O sank into the back of her chair. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Seriously, all I asked for was his opinion on something. And he got all fussy."

"Oh? What is that something, if I may ask?"

"Our relationship. I asked him where he thought we'd be in a few years." She huffed, disturbing her fringe. "He didn't say anything."

Watari resisted the urge to scoff. He wasn't surprised. Lately, all their "relationship" consisted of was one-sided banter about how L needed to change his habits. The old man sometimes regretted his move to employ a voice of reason to stabilize the genius detective's ego. Well, he normally wasn't the type to intervene in personal affairs, but he really wanted her to have a taste of her own medicine. Later in the afternoon, he arranged for both O and L to meet with each other. Once L was seated, in a chair that was farthest from his frowning girlfriend, Watari began to lay down the ground rules.

"Here's how things are going to work: O, I will allow you speak about what happened today and why you're upset," Watari explained. Just as she was about to gab, his hand went up to stop her. "However, L is free to interrupt you at any time. Do you agree with these conditions?"

"I don't even see how that's even fair-"

"Agree, or I'll set up an appointment for you to visit Mr. Mikami."

"Well, it started this morning-"

"Actually, it was precisely 9:42 A.M.," L interrupted.

O put an extreme effort into restraining herself from directing her harsh glare at L.

"...Right. Anyway, he wouldn't say what was bothering him after I asked for his opinion," she argued, pushing her glasses up on her nose. She glanced at the crouching man from the corner of her eye, huffing when his head turned towards her. "So wouldn't it be natural to try to understand what was bothering him?"

"Not when it is made perfectly clear that I do not wish to be disturbed."

Eyebrow raised, O turned in her seat to look L in the eyes. She could not believe her ears. Perfectly clear and L didn't even belong in the same sentence. It just didn't. She focused her eyes back on Watari, eagerly awaiting her turn to speak. Sadly, he didn't grant her the opportunity. He faced L, calm and collected.

"Why do you think O missed how apparent it was that you didn't want to be bothered?" he asked. L's toes clenched and unclenched the edge of his chair.

"She is too aggressive and selfish," he answered. "It would probably be in vain to try and speak with her without her trying to argue."

Uncrossing her arms to place her hands on her hips, O gave an indignant huff.

"Oh, so I'm a bully, now!?" she shouted, skirt swaying as she launched herself up from her seat. She chuckled derisively. It was a dark and disconcerting noise. L didn't like the way it sounded. "Like you haven't been my personal warden."

"Enough," Watari ordered. O sat back down in her seat, clearly incensed. When she seemed reasonably tranquil, he came up with a different approach. "Why does L think of you this way, O?"

"No doubt that he's thought that ever since we met," she grumbled. "He's never had anyone to tell him he's wrong because he's _L._ I've done it a lot of times; of course, that's _plenty _reason to call me a bully."

A thick silence enveloped the room. Watari stood up, giving a small sigh.

"I think it would be best if I left you two to your own devices," he said, walking towards the door. "You don't need me to sort this out." With that said, he left the room. After a few moments of watching O pace back and forth, L spoke up.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't put words in my mouth," L stiffly replied. "And I didn't expect for you to get worse in your criticisms."

The long-haired woman stopped her pacing, approaching the brooding detective quickly.

"It wasn't even me who wanted this! It was _you_," O spat, jabbing him in the shoulder blade.

"You didn't have to accept my feelings," he dully advised, eyes directed at his feet.

"But you knew I would, L. You have this magnetism that attracts people to you, whether they like you or not. It makes them want to take care of you, take pity on you." She scoffed. "It's almost impossible to resist."

"I never meant to be irresistible," L commented. "I never meant for you to accept-"

"Not everything is under your control," she informed. "You're always used to getting to call the shots, when you really oughta let things happen."

Not soon after she said those words, O frowned. Her nose was running. She cupped her hand over it until she had a tissue to wipe it with. When she did, she noticed that the fluid that came out was red. Suddenly, an aggressive itch attacked her throat, giving rise to a hacking cough that filled the tissue with more blood. O fell to her knees, head spinning. What was going on? Why was she so woozy?

L calling her name was the last thing she heard before she collapsed.

* * *

**Sorry for my absence. Just finished the last week of school, so I'll be active, now! Next chapter's probably the last, though, sadly. Thanks for sticking with me!**


	19. Too Addictive

**Reason Nineteen**

"**Too Addictive"**

L ran the word through his brain repeatedly. He picked it apart and defined its many meanings. Stress. Noun. Mental, emotional, or physical strain caused by anxiety or overwork. It may cause such symptoms as raised blood pressure or depression. Strain. Pressure. Depression. He already knew what the term meant; he just couldn't understand why it was stuck in his mind. Perhaps he was stressed? As much as he'd like to function as a machine, L wasn't an exception to the human condition. There were several times where he felt stressed, but he was adept at hiding it.

However, he was only anxious at the moment.

The reason for his confusion about stress partially stemmed from Rie Tagawa, who was speaking to him on the phone. She was a doctor who owed the detective a favor. Watari had taken O to the hospital she worked at so that she could get top-notch treatment.

"You there, Ryuzaki?" the older woman asked, curious about the silence on the other end of the line. Stress, stress, stress. Strain. Pressure. Depression. L forced his brain to stop functioning on repeat and spoke.

"I'm here. Please continue, Dr. Tagawa."

"…Right. Like I said, she must've been under quite a lot of stress lately," she mused. "Good at hiding it if _you _haven't noticed."

He _should _have noticed. He discredited O's usual high-energy, superfluous arguments with him as something she does to release steam, not build it up. He knew he could be infuriating in others' eyes, but he never once expected that O would suffer like she did because of his unorthodox behavior. Were her conscious efforts of trying to change him her way of warning him of her health?

"It's been two days," Tagawa continued, "and she's been begging to get her hands on-what's it called-Natera?"

"Nutella," L corrected. "It's popular over in the States."

"Anyway, she's been examined, and she's clear for a visit. I'd say that she's ready to see a certain someone."

"Thank you. And Dr. Tagawa?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I would appreciate it if you didn't keep Watari more occupied than he should."

A dry chuckle. "Well, if you ask me, it's more of the other way around-"

L hung up the phone. He glanced at the rearview mirror to catch Watari's twinkling eye. The old man smiled and didn't speak a word even as they reached the back of the hospital. When the younger man left the car, a small bag in tow, his caretaker had this to say:

"Satomi has the chance to make a decision, and it is imperative for you to know that whatever happens after that decision isn't your fault."

After receiving that piece of advice, L thanked Watari and went to the secluded room where Dr. Tagawa put O. He couldn't take any chances, since the safety of their true identities were top priority. As his feet shuffled forward in his uncomfortable, ragged tennis shoes, he wondered what he would see. Would her round face be gaunt and sharp? Would he even recognize her? Then his logic kicked in. It assured him that no one could appear malnourished from just two days in the hospital unless they were severely unwell. He remembered, as he passed through the door, that the doctor said that her condition wasn't too critical and that O was as chatty as she usually was.

"You came by."

L wasn't surprised by the simple greeting, but he was thrown for a loop at his girlfriend's appearance. The dark depths of her eyes were more pronounced now that her glasses weren't on, and they appeared to be bigger than normal. Her hair was tousled, gathered up in a makeshift bun. Her otherwise healthy look would've put L's mind at ease if it wasn't for how defeated she looked. Her slouch rivaled his own, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped around a pillow.

This wasn't the woman he admired. She herself seemed too bewildered by the fact that her body gave in to something so ordinary like stress. She was way too spirited to be discouraged by that. It made him realize why it was difficult to move past the fact that it was stress that affected her so. He didn't envision O conceding to something like that.

It just wasn't right.

The detective walked up to her bed, digging into the bag he had in his hand. He took out a spoon and a jar of O's favorite hazelnut spread.

"Nutella!" she exclaimed, a bit of life relaxing her stiff shoulders. "I've been dying for some. Thanks, L-I mean-"

"It's fine, and please mind your choice of words," he said, unscrewing the cap from the container. He dipped the spoon in the gelatinous, brown goop and stirred it around.

"What?" the slightly lethargic woman asked, then giggled as she understood the implication. "L, I wasn't going to _die _from this." She smiled softly. "…You were that worried?"

"I have no reason to worry."

"And that was probably the only time you've been _bad _at lying."

"Open your mouth, please."

O was caught off-guard by the command until she saw the spoon thrust before her mouth. Her cross-eyed shock must have made a point that she was perplexed at L's gesture. Deciding that she wasn't going to argue (look where that got her), she humored the detective and opened her mouth. L moved a bit too fast. With a cringe-worthy _clink, _the spoon impacted her front teeth and made her clamp down on the glob of Nutella. Of course, it didn't make a smooth journey down her throat. Instead, it traveled down the side of her mouth like a slug, leaving a thick trail of brown behind it.

"That didn't go well," she laughed, wiping away the wasted treat. She took the jar and began to feed herself, almost swooning when the spread met her tongue the right way. "Thanks for trying, though-"

"Perhaps it would be best if we didn't see each other anymore," L suggested, gently pushing O down once she attempted to jump out of her bed. She put the Nutella aside, folding her arms over her chest with a heavy sigh as she leaned against a pillow for support.

"Listen, L, I'm not gonna-"

"Satomi." Her silence was immediate. "Your body gave out to stress, which I caused. Do you honestly think we can stay together with-"

"Oh, stop it," she cut in. She shook her head at how good they were at interrupting each other. They didn't have a handle on anything else but arguing in a relationship. "It's my fault for being so damn angry at you all the time. I'm sorry for being so hard on you."

"You aren't wrong for having an opinion," he easily forgave, giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "Just get some rest."

"Will do."

After a twenty-minute nap, O woke up and saw a folded piece of paper on her lap. She picked up her glasses and read it quietly.

_Dear Satomi,_

_You are the only one, besides Watari, to tolerate me for so long. You have made it no secret how much you dislike my way of doing things and my whole process as the world's three greatest detectives. I appreciate your honesty and your tolerance. However, I don't want you to tolerate me for the rest of your life. _

_You claim you accept me, faults and all, and I wholeheartedly believe you, but I know you deserve so much better than me. _

_I thought about your words from the therapy session Watari made us go through. I should just let things happen on their own course. You are entirely right. I am a very control-oriented person. I tend not to take any responsibility for anyone who doesn't act according to my command and it is childish of me. You should know by now how I operate much like a child. Even so, I'd like to take a moment to step outside of my childish ways to offer you a choice._

_Stay with me, and we can be together as long as you'd like. Or leave me, and have a much better life than I can give you. Whichever one you choose, I'll make sure that you are taken care of. _

_It's up to you, Satomi. _

_-L_

To Satomi, it was obvious which one she was going to choose.

* * *

**Thanks so much, guys, for your reviews, your favorites, follows, and everything that contributed to this story. You've been awesome. I've enjoyed this crazy task I've put Satomi through. And for the record, I have nothing against our favorite detective. It's just the guy's so socially awkward and into his work, how could you expect him to manage a relationship? XD That being said, I hope you enjoyed! Once again, thanks for your time.**


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